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THE  WHITE  RACE  MAY 


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GEORGE  WHARTON  JAMES 


GIFT   OF 


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THE  INDIANS'  SECRETS  OF  HEALTH 

OR 

WHAT  THE  WHITE  RACE   MAY 

LEARN  FROM  THE  INDIAN 


BOOKS  BY  GEORGE    WHARTON   JAMES 


What  the  White  Race  May  Learn  from  the 
Indian. 

In  and  Around  the  Grand  Canyon. 

Indians  of  the  Painted  Desert  Region. 

In  and  Out  of  the  Old  Missions  of  California. 

The  Wonders  of  the  Colorado  Desert. 

The  Story  of  Scraggles. 

Indian  Basketry. 

How  to  Make  Indian  and  Other  Baskets. 

Travelers'  Handbook  to  Southern  Cali- 
fornia. 

The  Beacon  Lis:ht. 


GEOUP   OF   HOPI    MAIDENS   AND   AN   OLD    MAN    AT  MASHONGANAVI. 


The  Indians'  Secrets 
of  Health 


OR 


What  the  White  Race  May  Learn  from  the  Indian 


By 

GEORGE  WHARTON  JAMES 

Author  of 
The  Indians  of  the    Painled  Desert  Region,    Indian    Basketry, 
Indian    Blankets    and    their   Makers,     In   and   Out    of  the 
Old  Missions  of  California,      Our  Ameiican   Wonder- 
lands     Living  the  Radiant  Life,     Quit  Your  Wor- 
rying,     The  Lake  of  the  Sky — Lake    Tahoe, 
etc.,    etc.,    etc. 


NEW  and  ENLARGED  EDITION 


PASADENA,  CALIF. 

THE   RADIANT  LIFE  PRESS 

1917 


Copyright,   1908 

BY 

EDITH  E.  FARNSWOKTII 


J.  F.  Tapley  Co. 
New  York 


k 


WHAT  THE  WHITE  RACE 
MAYLEARN  FROM  THE  INDIAN' 


FOREWORD 

T  WOULD  not  have  it  thought  that  I  commend  indis- 
criminately everything  that  the  Indian  does  and  is. 
There  are  scores  of  things  about  the  Indian  that  are 
reprehensible  and  to  be  avoided.  Most  Indians  smoke, 
and  to  me  the  habit  is  a  vile  and  nauseating  one.  In- 
dians often  wear  filthy  clothes.  They  are  often  coarse 
in  their  acts,  words,  and  their  humor.  Some  of  their 
habits  are  repulsive.  I  have  seen  Indian  boys  and 
men  maltreat  helpless  animals  until  my  blood  has 
boiled  with  an  indignation  I  could  not  suppress,  and 

9 


368755 


FORKWORD 

I  li;iv("  t.ikcii  llic  .iiiimals  ;i\v;iy  iVoiii  lliciii.  Tliey 
;ii-(>  cciKMJillv  \  iii(li('ti\  ('  .111(1  relentless  in  ])iirsnit  ot" 
tlieii-  encMiiies.  'riiey  often  content  tlienist^lves  with 
iinj)in-e  and  filthy  water  when  a  little  careful  labor 
would    <i;ive   tlieui    a    suj)))ly   of  fairly   «j;ood    water. 

Ind(H>(l.  in  uuuiei'ous  Ihinjjjs  and  ways  I  have  per- 
sonally seen  the  Indian  is  not  to  be  commended,  l)ut 
condemned,  and  his  methods  of  Hfe  avoicU'd.  But 
})ecanse  of  this,  I  do  not  close  my  eyes  to  the  many 
good  thin<j;s  of  his  life.  My  reason  is  useless  to  me 
unless  it  teaches  me  what  to  accept  and  what  to  reject, 
and  he  is  kin  to  fool  who  refuses  to  accept  good  from 
a  man  or  a  race  unless  in  everything  that  man  or  race 
is  ])erfect.  There  is  no  perfection,  in  man  at  least, 
on  earth,  and  all  the  good  I  have  ever  received  from 
human  beings  has  ])een  from  im])erfect  men  and 
women.  So  I  fully  recognize  the  im])erfections  of 
the  Indian  while  taking  lessons  from  him  in  those 
things  that  go  to  make  life  fuller,  richer,  better. 

Neither  nuist  it  be  thought  that  everything  here 
said  of  the  Indians  with  whom  I  have  come  in  contact 
can  be  said  of  all  Indians.  Indians  are  not  all  alike 
any  more  than  white  men  and  women  are  all  alike. 
One  can  find  filthy,  disgusting  slovens  among  white 
women,  yet  we  do  not  condenm  all  white  women  on 
the  strength  of  this  indisputable  fact.  So  with  Indians. 
Some  are  good,  some  indifferent,  some  bad.  In  dealing 
with  them  as  a  race,  a  })eople,  therefore,  I  do  as  I  would 
with  my  own  race,  I  take  what  to  me  seem  to  be 
racial  characteristics,  or  in  other  words,  the  things 
that  are  manifested  in  the  lives  of  the  ])est  men  and 
women,  and  which  seem  to  represent  their  habitual 
aims,  ambitions,  and  desires. 

This  ])ook  lays  no  claim  to  completeness  or  thorough- 

10 


FOREWORD 

ness.  It  is  merely  suggestive.  The  field  is  iiiucli 
larger  than  I  have  gleaned  over.  The  eha})ters  of 
which  the  book  is  comj)osed  were  written  when  away 
from  works  of  reference,  and  merely  as  transcri})ts 
of  the  remembrances  that  flashed  through  my  mind 
at  the  time  of  writing.  Yet  I  believe  in  everything  I 
have  said  I  have  ke])t  strictly  within  the  bounds  of 
truth,  and  have  written  only  that  which  1  pei'sonally 
know  to  be  fact. 

The  original  articles  from  which  these  pages  have 
been  made  were  written  in  various  desultoiy  ])laces, 
—  on  the  cars,  while  traveling  between  the  Pacific  and 
the  Atlantic,  on  the  elevated  railways  of  the  metrop- 
olis, standing  at  the  desk  of  my  New  York  friend  in 
his  office  on  Broadway,  even  in  the  woods  of  Michigan 
and  in  the  depths  of  the  Grand  Canyon.  Two  of  the 
new  chapters  were  written  at  the  home  of  my  friend 
Bass,  at  Bass  Camp,  Grand  Canyon,  but  the  main 
enlargement  and  revision  has  occurred  at  Santa  Clara 
College,  the  site  of  the  Eighth  Mission  in  the  Alta 
California  chain  of  Franciscan  Missions.  The  bells 
of  the  Mission  Church  have  hourly  rung  in  my  ears, 
and  the  Angelus  and  other  calls  to  prayer  have  given 
me  sweet  memories  of  the  good  old  padres  who  founded 
this  and  the  other  missions,  as  well  as  shown  me  pic- 
tures of  the  devoted  priests  of  to-day  engjiged  in  their 
solemn  services.  I  have  heard  the  merry  shouts  of 
the  boys  of  this  college  at  their  play,  for  the  Jesuits  are 
the  educators  of  the  boys  of  the  Catholic  Church. 
Here  from  the  precincts  of  this  old  mission,  I  call  upon 
the  white  race  to  incorporate  into  its  civilization  the 
good  things  of  the  Indian  civilization;  to  forsake 
the  injurious  things  of  its  pseudo-civilized,  artificial, 
and    over-refined    life,    and    to   return   to    the   simple, 

11 


FOREWORD 

healthful,  and  natural  life  which  the  Indians  largely 
lived  before  and  after  they  eanie  under  the  dominion 
of  the  Spanish   padres. 

If  all  or  anything  of  that  which  is  here  presented 
leads  any  of  my  readers  to  a  kinder  and  more  honest 
attitude  of  mind  towards  the  Indians,  then  I  shall  be 
thankful,  and  the  book  will  have  amply  accomplished 
its   mission. 

George  Wharton  James. 

Santa  Clu\ra,  California,  November  27.   1907. 


FOREWORD    TO    THE    NEW    EDITION 

Many  hundreds  have  spoken  and  written  to  me  of  the  great 
helpfulness  of  this  book.  Hence  it  did  not  seem  wise  to  let  it 
die.  There  are  many  excellent  things  in  the  life  of  the  Indian 
that  we  ought  not  to  forget.  Before  we  entered  into  and  pos- 
sessed the  land  he  certainly  was  healthy,  happy,  and  long-lived, 
far  in  advance  of  the  race  that  has  superseded  him.  Why 
should  we  not  add  to  the  best  of  our  civilization  these  good 
things  of  the  Indians.?  If  I  can  live  healthilij  and  happily  I 
certainly  desire  to  live  long.  I  believe  I  have  pointed  out  at 
least  some  of  the  important  reasons  why  the  Indians'  life  is 
healthy,  happy,  and  long. 

In  this  new  edition,  too,  I  have  added  a  chapter  on  the 
mental  qualities  of  the  Indian,  Avhich,  I  think,  will  be  a  revelation 
to  thousands  of  readers.  That  what  I  have  said  is  true  no  one 
can  controvert,  though  few,  save  those  who  really  penetrate 
to  the  innerness  of  the  Indian,  are  aware  of  the  truth.  As 
I  often  have  remarked  elsewhere  there  is  far  more  truth  in 
Fenimore  Cooper's  and  Helen  Hunt  Jackson's  delineations  of 
the  characters  of  Indians  than  most  Americans  know  or  believe. 
If  I  help  to  uncover  this  truth  to  the  minds  of  my  fellow  citi- 
zens, I  shall  be  glad. 

George  Whaktox  James. 

Pasadena,  California,  October,  1916. 

12 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

Foreword 9 

I.     The  White  Race   and   Its   Treat- 
ment OF  THE  Indian         ...  15 
II.     The  White  Race  and  Its  Civiliza- 
tion          28 

III.  The  Indian  and   Nasal   and    Deep 

Breathing           .....  39 

IV.  The  Indian  and  Out-of-Door  Life  49 
V.     The  Indian  and    Sleeping   Out  of 

Doors 70 

VI.     The  Indian   as   a   Walker,  Rider, 

AND  Climber       .....  79 
VII.     The  Indian   in  the  Rain  and  the 

Dirt 93 

VIII.     The  Indian   and    Physical    Labor  105 
IX.     The  Indian   and    Physical    Labor 

FOR  Girls  and   Women  .        .        .111 

X.     The  Indian   and   Diet       .        .        .119 

XI.     The  Indian   and  Education     .        .  130 

XII.     The  Indian  and  Hospitality  .        .  143 

XIII.  The  Indian  and     Certain     Social 

Traits  and  Customs        .        .        .156 

XIV.  The  Indian  and  Some  Luxuries     .  162 
XV.     The  Indian  and  the  Sex  Question  175 

XVI.     The  Indian  and  Her  Baby      .        .  183 
XVII.     The  Indian  and   the   Sanctity   of 

Nudity 197 

XVIII.     The  Indian  and  Frankness     .        .  204 

13 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  FACE 

XIX.     The  Indian  and  Repining     .        .  207 
XX.     The  Indian  and  the  Superflui- 
ties OF  Life 210 

XXI.     The    Indian    and    jNIental    Poise  217 
XXII.     The   Indian  and   Self-Restraint  229 
XXIII.     The  Indian  and  Affectation       .  235 
XXIV.     The  Indian  and  Art  Work    .        .  240 
XXV.     The  Indian  and  Religious  Wor- 
ship      250 

XXVI.     The  Indian  and  Immortality       .  259 

XXVII.     Visiting  the  Indians       .        .        .  265 

XXVIII.     The  MentxVLIty  of  the  Indian     .  268 

XXIX.     Conclusion 279 


14 


CHAPTER   I 

THE  WHITE   RACE  AND   ITS  TREATMENT  OF  THE 

INDIAN 

TT^VER  since  the  white  race  has  been  in  power  on 
-*— '  the  American  continent  it  has  regarded  the 
Indian  race  —  and  by  this  I  mean  all  the  aboriginal 
people  found  here  —  as  its  inferiors  in  every  regard. 
And  little  by  little  upon  this  hypothesis  have  grown  up 
various  sentiments  and  aphorisms  which  have  so  con- 
trolled the  actions  of  men  who  never  see  below  the 
surface  of  things,  and  who  have  no  thought  power  of 
their  own,  that  our  national  literature  has  become 
impregnated  with  the  fiendish  conception  that  "the 
only  good  Indian  is  the  dead  Indian."  The  exploits 
of  a  certain  class  of  scouts  and  Indian-hunters  have 
been  lauded  in  books  without  number,  so  that  even 
schoolboys  are  found  each  year  running  away  west, 
each  with  a  belt  of  cartridges  around  his  waist  and  a 
revolver  in  his  hip  pocket,  for  the  purpose  of  hunting 
Indians.  Good  men  and  women,  people  of  the 
highest  character,  are  found  to  be  possessed  of  an 
antipathy  towards  the  Indian  that  is  neither  moral  nor 
christian.  Men  of  the  highest  integrity  in  ordinary 
affairs  will  argue  forcefully  and  with  an  apparent 
confidence  in  the  justice  of  their  plea  that  the  Indian 
has  no  rights  in  this  country  that  we  are  bound  to 
respect.  They  are  here  merely  on  sufferance,  and 
whatever  the  United  States  government  does  for  them 
is  pure  and  disinterested  philanthropy,  for  which  the 
Indian  should   be  only  grateful  and   humble. 

15 


THE   WlilTE   RACE   AND   THE    INDIAN 

To  me  this  is  a  (lamnal)le  state  of  affairs.  If  ])rior 
possession  entitles  one  to  any  riglit  in  land,  then  the 
Indian  owns  the  land  of  the  United  States  by  prior 
right.  The  so-called  argument  that  because  the 
Indian  is  not  wisely  v.s'iug  the  land,  and  that  therefore 
he  stands  in  the  way  of  })rogress  and  must  be  removed, 
and  further,  that  we,  the  people  of  the  United  States, 
are  the  providentially  appointed  instruments  for  that 
removal,  is  to  me  so  sophistical,  so  manifestly  insincere, 
so  horribly  cruel,  tliat  I  have  little  patience  either  to 
listen  or  reply  to  it. 

If  this  be  true,  what  about  the  vast  holders  of  land 
wdiom  our  laws  cherish  and  protect,?  Are  they  holding 
the  land  for  useful  and  good  purposes  ?  Are  they 
"heljHng  on  the  cause  of  civilization"  by  their  merci- 
less and  grasping  control  of  the  millions  of  acres  they 
have  generally  so  unlawfully  and  immorally  secured  ? 
Thousands,  nay  millions,  of  acres  are  held  by  com- 
paratively few  men,  without  one  thought  for  the  com- 
mon good.  The  only  idea  in  the  minds  of  these  men 
is  the  selfish  one:    "What  can  I  make  out  of  it.?" 

Let  us  be  honest  with  ourselves  and  call  things  by 
their  proper  names  in  our  treatment  of  the  weaker 
race.  If  the  Indian  is  in  the  way  and  we  are  deter- 
mined to  take  his  land  from  him,  let  us  at  least  be 
manly  enough  to  recognize  ourselves  as  thieves  and 
robbers,  and  do  the  act  as  the  old  barons  of  Europe 
used  to  do  it,  by  force  of  arms,  fairly  and  cheerfully: 
"You  have  these  broad  acres:  I  want  them.  I  chal- 
lenge you  to  hold  them:  to  the  victor  belongs  the 
spoils."  Then  the  joist  began.  And  he  who  was 
the  stronger  gained  the  acres  and  the  castle. 

Let  us  go  to  the  Indian  and  say:  "I  want  your 
lands,  your  hunting-grounds,  your  forests,  your  water- 

16 


THE   WHITE   RACE   AND   THE   INDIAN 

holes,  your  springs,  your  rivers,  your  corn-fields,  your 
rnountains,  your  canyons.  I  need  them  for  my  own 
use,  I  am  stronger  than  you;  there  are  more  of 
us  than  there  are  of  you.  I  've  got  to  have  them. 
You  will  have  to  do  with  less.  I  'm  going  to  take 
them;"  and  then  proceed  to  the  robbery.  But  let 
us  be  above  the  contemptible  meanness  of  calling  our 
theft  "  benevolent  assimilation,"  or  "  manifest  destiny," 
or  "seeking  the  higher  good  of  the  Indian."  A  nation 
as  well  as  a  race  may  do  scoundrel  acts,  but  let 
it  not  add  to  its  other  evil  the  contemptible  crime  of 
conscious  hypocrisy.  The  unconscious  hypocrite  is 
to  be  pitied  as  well  as  shaken  out  of  his  hypocrisy,  but 
the  conscious  hypocrite  is  a  stench  in  the  nostrils  of 
all  honest  men  and  women.  The  major  part  of  the 
common  people  of  the  United  States  have  been  uncon- 
scious of  the  hypocritical  treatment  that  has  been 
accorded  the  Indians  by  their  leaders,  whether  these 
leaders  were  elected  or  appointed  officials  or  self- 
elected  philanthropists  and  reformers.  Hence,  while 
I  would  "shake  them  up"  and  make  them  conscious 
of  their  share  in  the  nation's  hypocrisy,  I  have  no  feel- 
ing of  condemnation  for  them.  On  the  other  hand,  I 
feel  towards  the  conscious  humbugs  and  hypocrites, 
who  use  the  Indian  as  a  cloak  for  their  own  selfish 
aggrandizement  and  advancement,  as  the  Lord  is 
said  to  have  felt  toward  the  lukewarm  churches 
when  He  exclaimed:  "I  will  spew  thee  out  of  my 
mouth." 

In  our  treatment  of  the  Indian  we  have  been  liars, 
thieves,  corrupters  of  the  morals  of  their  women, 
debauchers  of  their  maidens,  degraders  of  their  young 
manhood,  perjurers,  and  murderers.  We  have  lied 
to  them  about  our  good,  pacific,  and  honorable  inten- 

17 


THE    WHITE   RACE   AND   THE   INDIAN 

tions ;  we  have  made  promises  to  them  tliat  we  never 
intended  to  keej)  —  made  tliem  simply  to  gain  our  own 
selfisli  and  mercenary  ends  in  the  easiest  possible 
way,  and  tlien  liave  repudiated  our  promises  without 
conscience  and  witliout  remorse.  We  liave  stolen 
from  them  nearly  all  they  had  of  lands  and  worldly 
possessions.  Only  two  or  three  years  ago  I  was  present 
when  a  Havasupai  Indian  was  arrested  for  having 
shot  a  deer  out  of  season,  taken  before  the  courts  and 
heavily  fined,  when  his  own  father  had  roamed  over 
the  region  hunting,  as  his  ancestors  had  done  for  cen- 
turies before,  ere  there  were  any  white  men's  laws 
or  courts  forbidding  them  to  do  what  was  as  natural 
for  them  to  do  as  it  was  to  drink  of  the  water  they 
found,  eat  of  the  fruits  and  berries  they  passed,  or 
breathe  the  air  as  they  rode  along.  The  law  of  the 
white  man  in  reference  to  deer  and  antelope  hunting 
is  based  upon  the  selfishness  of  the  white  man,  who 
in  a  few  generations  has  slain  every  buffalo,  most 
of  the  mountain  sheep,  elk,  moose,  and  left  but  a 
comparative  remnant  of  deer  and  antelope.  The 
Indian  has  never  needed  such  laws.  He  has  always 
been  unselfish  enough  to  leave  a  sufficient  number 
of  this  wild  game  for  breeding  purposes,  or,  if  it  was 
not  unselfishness  that  commanded  his  restraint,  his 
own  self-interest  in  piling  up  meat  was  sacrificed  to 
the  general  good  of  his  people  who  required  meat 
also,  and  must  be  able  to  secure  it  each  year.  Hence, 
to-day  we  shut  off  by  law  the  normal  and  natural 
source  of  meat  supply  of  the  Indian,  without  any 
consultation  with  him,  and  absolutely  without  recourse 
or  redress,  because  we  ourselves  —  the  white  race  — 
are  so  unmitigatedly  selfish,  so  mercenary,  so  indif- 
ferent to  the  future  needs  of  the  race,    that   without 

18 


THE   WHITE   RACE   AND   THE   INDIAN 

such  law   we   would  kill  off  all  the  wild   game  in  a 
few  short  years. 

Then  who  is  there  who  has  studied  the  Indian  and 
the  white  man's  relation  to  him,  who  does  not  know 
of  the  vile  treatment  the  married  women  and  maidens 


A    WALLAPAI    BASKET   WEAVER. 


alike  have  received  at  the  hands  of  the  "superior" 
people.  Let  the  story  of  the  devilish  debaucheries  of 
young  Indian  girls  by  Indian  agents  and  teachers  be 
fully  written,  and  even  the  most  violent  defamers  of 
Indians  would  be  compelled  to  hang  their  heads  with 
shame.     To  those  who  know,  the  name  of  Perris  — 

19 


THE   Win TK    RACE   AND   THE   INDIAN 

a  soiitluMii  California  Indian  school  —  brings  up 
memories  of  this  class  of  crime  that  make  one's  blood 
hot  afz;ainst  the  Avhite  fiend  who  perpetrated  them, 
and  I  am  now  as  I  write  near  to  the  Ilavasupai  reser- 
vation in  northern  Arizona,  where  one  of  the  teachers 
had  to  leave  surreptitiously  because  of  his  discovered 
immoralities  with  Indian  women  and  pjirls.  Only 
a  decade  ago  the  name  of  the  Wallapai  woman  was 
almost  synonymous  with  immorality  because  of  the 
degrading  influences  of  white  men,  and  one  of  the 
most  pathetic  things  I  ever  heard  was  the  hopeless 
"  What  can  we  do  about  it  ?  "  of  an  Indian  chief  on  the 
Colorado  desert,  when  I  spoke  to  him  of  the  demoraliza- 
tion of  the  women  of  his  people.  In  effect  his  reply 
was:  "The  whites  have  so  driven  us  to  the  wall  that 
we  are  often  hungry,  and  it  is  far  easier  to  be  immoral 
than  to  go  hungry." 

Then,  read  the  reports  of  the  various  Indian  agents 
throughout  the  country  who  have  sought  to  enforce 
the  laws  against  whites  selling  liquor  to  Indians. 
Officials  and  courts  alike  have  often  been  supine 
and  indifferent  to  the  Indian's  welfare,  and  have 
generally  shown  far  more  desire  to  protect  the  white 
man  in  his  "vested  interests"  than  to  protect  the 
young  men  of  the  Indian  tribes  against  the  evil  in- 
fluences of  liquor.  Again  and  again  I  have  been  in 
Indian  councils  and  heard  the  old  men  declaim  against 
the  white  man's  fire-water.  The  Havasupais  declare 
it  to  be  ]ian-a-to-op-o-c/i,  "very  bad,"  the  Navahos  da- 
s]ion-dc\  "of  the  Evil  One,"  while  one  and  all  insist 
that  their  young  men  shall  be  kept  from  its  demoraliz- 
ing influence.  Yet  there  is  seldom  a  fiesta  at  which 
some  vile  white  wretch  is  not  willing  to  sell  his  own 
soul,  and  violate  the  laws  of  whites  and  Indians  alike, 

20 


A   SKILLED    HOPI    BASKET   WEAVER. 

21 


THE   WHITE   RACE   AXD   THE   INDIAN 

in  order  to  gain  a  little  dirty  pelf  by  providing  some 
abominable  decoetion  whieli  he  sells  as  whisky  to 
those  whose  moral  stamina  is  not  strong  enongli  to 
withstand  the  temptation. 

And  as  for  perjury  in  our  dealings  with  Indians: 
read  the  records  of  broken  treaties,  violated  ])ledges, 
and  disregarded  vows  noted  by  Helen  Hunt  Jackson 
in  her  "Century  of  Dishonor,"  and  then  say  whether 
the  charge  is  not  sustained. 

Yet,  when  the  Indian  has  dared  to  resent  the  cruel 
and  abominable  treatment  accorded  to  him  in  so  many 
instances  and  in  such  fearful  variety,  he  has  been 
called  "treacherous,  vindictive,  fiendish,  murderous," 
because,  in  his  just  and  righteous  indignation  and 
wrath,  he  has  risen  and  determined  to  slay  all  he 
could  find  of  the  hated  white  race.  No  doubt  his  war- 
fare has  not  always  been  civilized.  Why  should  it  be.'^ 
How  could  it  be 't  He  is  not  civilized.  He  knows 
nothing  of  "christian"  principles  in  a  war  which 
"christian"  people  have  forced  upon  him  as  an  act  of 
self-defense.  He  is  a  savage,  battling  with  savage  feroc- 
ity, savage  determination,  to  keep  his  home,  that  of 
his  ancestors,  for  himself,  his  children,  and  their  chil- 
dren. Oom  Paul  Kruger  told  the  British  that  if  they 
forced  a  war  upon  the  Boers  for  the  possession  of  the 
Transvaal,  they  would  win  it  at  a  price  that  would 
"stagger  humanity."  Yet  thousands  of  good  Amer- 
icans honored  Oom  Paul  for  his  "bravery,"  his  "pa- 
triotism," his  "god-like  determination  to  stand  for  the 
rights  of  his  people."  But  if  our  Indian  does  the  same 
thing  in  the  defense  of  his  home  and  slaughters  a  lot 
of  soldiers  sent  to  drive  him  away,  he  is  guilty  of  mur- 
derous treachery;  his  killings  are  "massacres,"  and  he 
must  be  exterminated  as  speedily  as  possible. 


THE   WHITE   RACE   AND   THE   INDIAN 

Who  ever  hears  any  other  than  the  term  "  massacre  " 
appHed  to  the  death  of  Custer  and  his  soldiers?  The 
"Custer  massacre"  is  as  "famihar  as  household 
words."  Yet  what  is  a  massacre?  Webster  says:  "1. 
The  killing  of  a  considerable  number  of  human  beings 
under  circumstances  of  atrocity  or  cruelty,  or  contrary 
to  the  usages  of  civilized  people.  2.  Murder."  With 
such  definitions  in  view,  look  at  the  facts  of  the  case. 
I  would  not  have  it  understood  in  what  I  say  that 
I  am  condemning  Custer.  He  was  a  general  under 
orders,  and  as  a  dutiful  servant  he  was  endeavoring  to 
carry  them  out.  (The  debatable  question  as  to  wheth- 
er he  was  obeying  or  disregarding  orders  I  leave 
for  military  men  themselves  to  settle.)  It  is  not  Cus- 
ter, or  any  other  one  individual,  that  I  am  condemning, 
but  the  public,  national  policy.  Custer's  army  was 
ordered  to  proceed  against  these  men,  and  forcibly 
remove  them  from  the  place  they  had  chosen  as  their 
home  —  and  which  had  been  theirs  for  centuries  before 
a  white  man  ever  trod  this  continent  —  and  take  them 
to  a  reservation  which  they  disliked,  and  in  the  choice 
of  which  their  wishes,  desires,  or  comfort  had  in  no 
way  been  consulted.  The  white  soldiers  were  armed, 
and  it  is  well  known  that  they  intended  to  use  these 
arms.  Could  they  have  come  upon  the  Indians  by 
stealth,  or  by  some  stratagem,  they  would  have  done 
so  without  any  compunctions  of  conscience,  and  no 
one  would  ever  have  thought  of  administering  a  rebuke 
to  them,  even  though  in  the  fight  that  would  undoubt- 
edly have  ensued  every  Indian  had  been  slain.  It 
would  have  been  heralded  as  a  glorious  victory,  and  we 
should  have  thanked  God  for  His  goodness  in  directing 
our  soldiers  in  their  "honorable"  warfare.  But  un- 
fortunately, the  incident  turned  in  another  direction. 

23 


TIIK    WHITE   RACE   Ax\D   THE   INDIAN 


The  w()iil(l-l)e  captors  wore  the  caught;  the  would-be 
surpriscrs  were  the  surprised;  tlie  would-l)e  slayers 
were  the  slain.  Custer  and  his  baud  of  men,  brave 
and  gallant  as  United  States  soldiers  generally  are,  — 
and  I  would  resent  with  heat  any  slanderous  remark 
to  the  contrary,  —  were  surrounded,  surprised,  and 
slain  to  a  man. 

Weep  at  the  grave  of  Custer;  weep  at  the  graves  of 
his  men ;  weep  with  the  widows  and  orphans  of  those 
suddenly  surprised  and  slain  soldiers. 
]My  own  tears  have  fallen  many  a 
time  as  I  have  read  and  reread  the 
details  of  that  awful  tragedy;  but 
still,  in  the  weeping  do  not  be  dis- 
honest and  ungenerous  to  the  victors, 
—  Indians  though  they  were.  Upon 
the  testimony  of  no  less  an  authority 
than  General  Charles  King,  who  has 
known  the  Sioux  personally  and  inti- 
mately for  years,  they  were  ever  the 
hospitable  friends  of  the  white  race, 
until  a  post  commander,  —  w  hose 
name  should  be  pilloried  for  the 
execration  of  the  nation, —  imbued 
with  the  idea  that  the  only  good 
Indian  was  the  dead  Indian,  be- 
trayed and  slew  in  cold  blood  a 
number  of  them  wlio  had  trusted  to  his  promises 
and  placed  themselves  in  his  hands.  The  result  was, 
that  the  whole  tribe  took  this  slaughter  to  their  own 
hearts,  as  any  true  patriots  would  have  done,  and 
from  that  day  to  this  the  major  part  of  the  Sioux 
have  hated  the  white  race  with  the  undying,  bitter 
hatred    of    the    vindictive  savage. 

24 


INDIAN  BEADWORK  OF 
INTERESTING  DESIGN. 


THE   WHITE   RACE   AND   THE   INDIAN 

Again  and  again  when  I  have  visited  Indian  schools 
the  thoughtful  youths  and  maidens  have  come  to  me 
with  complaints  about  the  American  history  they  were 
compelled  to  study.  In  their  simple,  almost  colorless 
way  of  expressing  themselves,  a  bystander  would 
never  dream  of  the  fierce  anger  that  was  raging  within, 
but  which  I  was  too  experienced  in  Indian  character 
not  to  perceive.  Listen  to  what  some  of  them  have 
said:  "When  we  read  in  the  United  States  history 
of  white  men  fighting  to  defend  their  families,  their 
homes,  their  corn-fields,  their  towns,  and  their  hunting- 
grounds,  they  are  always  called  'patriots,'  and  the 
children  are  urged  to  follow  the  example  of  these  brave, 
noble,  and  gallant  men.  But  when  Indians  —  our 
ancestors,  even  our  own  parents  —  have  fought  to  de- 
fend us  and  our  homes,  corn-fields,  and  hunting- 
grounds  they  are  called  vindictive  and  merciless  sav- 
ages, bloody  murderers,  and  everything  else  that  is 
vile.  You  are  the  Indians'  friend :  will  you  not  some 
time  please  write  for  us  a  United  States  history  that 
will  not  teach  us  such  wicked  and  cruel  falsehoods 
about  our  forefathers  because  they  loved  their  homes 
enough  to  fight  for  them  —  even  against  such  power- 
ful foes  as  you  have  been."  And  I  have  vowed  that 
if  ever  I  have  time  and  strength  and  feel  competent  to 
do  it,  I  will  write  such  a  history. 

Yet  this  is  by  no  means  all  the  charge  I  have  to 
make  against  my  own  race  in  its  treatment  of  the 
Indian.  Not  content  with  depriving  him  of  his  worldly 
possessions,  we  have  added  insult  to  injury,  and  ad- 
ministered a  far  deeper  and  more  cutting  wound  to 
him  by  denying  to  him  and  his  wives  and  daughters 
the  moral,  poetical,  and  spiritual  qualities  they  possess. 
To  many  of  the  superior  (!)  race  this  is  utter  non- 
25 


THE   WHITE   RACE   AND   THE   INDIAN 


sense.     Tlie  idea  tliat  an  Indian  has  any  feelings  to  be 
linrt!     How    ridienlous!     Yet  I    make    the    assertion, 
feark\ss  of  sueeessful  eontradiction,  that  many  Indians 
feel  more  keenly  this  ignoring  of  the  good,  the  poetic, 
the  iesthetic,  the  religious   or  s})iritual   qualities   they 
])ossess   than   they  do  the  physical  wrongs  that  have 
been  inflicted  upon  them.     As  a  race,  we  are  preju- 
diced, bigoted,  and  "big-headed"  when  looking  upon 
any  other    race.     We   come  by  our 
])rejudices  naturally.     The  English- 
man   looks    down    upon  the   "frog- 
eating    Frenchman,"    and    used    to 
say  he  could    lick    ten    or    a    dozen 
such.     The  Frenchman  and  English- 
man both  scoff  at  the  beer-drinkins: 
German    and  the  stolid  Dutchman, 
yet  France  has  to  remember  Sedan, 
and    England     still     smarts    at    the 
name  of   Van  Tromp.     The  fact  is 
that  no  nation    can    afford    to    look 
down  upon  another,  any  more  than 
any  civilization  can  afford   to   crow 
over  another.     Each  has  its  own  vir- 
tues, its  own  "goods,"  its  own  advantages,     France, 
England,    Germany,    America,     have    never    equaled, 
much  less  surpassed,  the  architecture  of  Greece,  Egypt, 
and  Rome.     The  United  States,  with  all  its  brag  and 
boast,  has  never  had  a  poet  equal  to  old  blind  Homer 
or  the  Italian  Dante.     Germany's   Goethe   is   worthy 
to  stand  side  by  side  with  England's  Shakspere,  and 
the  architecture  of  the  rude  and  vulgar  "Goths"  is  the 
supremest  crown  of    all    building    in    the    proud    and 
conceited  English-speaking  "Mother  Country." 

And  so  have  I  learned  to  look  at  the  Indian.     He 

26 


INDIAN  BEADWOKK. 


THE   WHITE   RACE   AND   THE   INDIAN 

has  many  things  that  we  can  take  to  our  advantage  and 
profit,  and  some  of  these  have  been  presented  in  the 
following  pages.  In  the  next  chapter  I  have  a  few 
necessary  reservations  and  observations  to  make  which 
I  trust  the  patience  of  the  reader  will  permit  him 
carefully  to  consider. 


27 


CHAPTER  II 


THE  WHITE  RACE  AND  ITS  CIVUvIZATION 


T  AM  by  no  means  a  blind  worshiper  of  our  so-called 
"higher"  and  "advanced"  civilization.  I  do  not 
think  we  have  advanced  yet  as  far  as  the  Greeks  in  some 
things.  Our  civilization,  in  many  respects,  is  sham, 
shoddy,  gingerbread,  tinsel,  false,  showy,  meretricious, 
deceptive.  If  I  were  making  this  book 
an  arraignment  of  our  civilization  there 
would  ])e  no  lack  of  counts  in  the  in- 
dictment, and  a  plethora  of  evidence 
could  be  found  to  justify  each  charge. 
As  a  nation,  we  do  not  knoAV  how  to 
eat  rationally;  few  people  sleep  as 
they  should ;  our  drinking  habits  could 
not  be  much  worse;  our  clothing  is 
stiff,  formal,  conventional,  hideous,  and 
unhealthful ;  our  headgear  the  delirium 
tremens  of  silliness.  Much  of  our 
architecture  is  weakly  imitative,  flimsy, 
without  dignity,  character,  or  stability; 
much  of  our  religion  a  profession 
rather  than  a  life;  our  scholastic  system  turns  out 
anaemic  and  half-trained  pupils  who  are  forceful  dem- 
onstrators of  the  truth  that  "a  little  knowledge  is  a  dan- 
gerous thing."  And  as  for  our  legal  system,  if  a  body 
of  lunatics  from  the  nearest  asylum  could  not  concoct 
for  us  a  better  hash  of  jurisprudence  than  now  curses 
our  citizenship  I  should  be  surprised.  No  honest 
person,  whether  of  the  law  or  out  of  it,  denies  that 

28 


INDIAN  BEADWORK 

OF  RATTLESNAKE 

DESIGN. 


WHITE   RACE   AND   ITS   CIVILIZATION 

"law" — which  Browning  so  forcefully  satirizes  as 
"the  patent  truth-extracting  process," — has  become  a 
system  of  formalism,  of  precedent,  of  convention,  of 
technicality.  A  case  may  be  tried,  and  cost  the  city, 
county,  or  state  thousands  of  dollars ;  a  decision  ren- 
dered, and  yet,  upon  a  mere  technicality  that  does  not 
affect  the  real  merits  of  the  case  one  iota,  the  decision  will 
be  reversed,  and  either  the  culprit  —  whose  guilt  no 
one  denies  —  is  discharged,  or  a  new  trial,  with  its 
attendant  expense,  is  ordered.  The  folly  of  such  a 
system!  The  sheer  idiocy  of  men  wasting  time  and 
strength  and  energy  upon  such  puerile  foolishness.  I 
verily  believe  the  world  would  be  bettered  if  the  whole 
legal  system,  from  supreme  court  of  the  United  States 
down  to  pettiest  justice  court,  could  be  abolished  at 
one  blow,  and  a  reversion  made  to  the  decisions  of  the 
old  men  of  each  community  known  for  their  good  com- 
mon sense,  fearlessness,   and  integrity. 

It  may  be  possible  that  some  who  read  these  words 
will  deem  me  an  incontinent  and  general  railer  against 
our  civilization.  Such  a  conclusion  would  be  an  egre- 
gious error.  I  rail  against  nothing  in  it  but  that  which 
I  deem  bad,  —  bad  in  its  effect  upon  the  bodies,  minds, 
or  souls  of  its  citizens.  I  do  not  rail  against  the  wireless 
telegraph,  the  ocean  cables,  the  railway,  the  telephone, 
the  phonograph,  the  pianoforte,  the  automobile,  the 
ice  machine,  refrigerating  machine,  gas  light,  gas  for 
heating  and  cooking,  the  electric  light  and  heater, 
electric  railways,  newspapers,  magazines,  books,  and 
the  thousand  and  one  things  for  which  this  age  and 
civilization  of  ours  is  noted.  But  I  do  rail  against  the 
abuse  and  perversion  of  these  things.  I  do  rail  against 
the  system  that  permits  gamblers  to  swindle  the  common 
people  by  watering  the  stock  of  wireless  telegraphy, 

£9 


WHITE   RACE   AND   ITS   CIVILIZATION 

cable,  railway,  or  other  companies.  I  enjoy  some 
phonographs  amazingly,  but  I  rail  Jigainst  my  neigh- 
bor's running  his  phonograph  all  night.  I  think  coal- 
oil  a  good  thing,  but  I  rail  against  the  civilization  that 
allows  a  few  men  to  so  control  this  God-given  natural 
product  that  they  can  amass  in  a  few  short  years  for- 


RAMONA   AND    HER    STAR    BASKET. 


tunes  that  so  far  transcend  the  fortunes  of  the  kings  of 
ancient  times  that  they  make  the  wealth  of  Croesus  look 
like  '*  thirty  cents."  I  believe  thoroughly  in  education; 
but  I  rail  earnestly,  sincerely,  and  constantly  against 
that  so-called  education  (with  which  nearly  all  our  pres- 
ent systems  are  more  or  less  allied)  of  valuing  the 
embalmed  knowledge  of  books  more  than  the  personal, 
practical,  experimental  knowledge  of  the  things  them- 

30 


WHITE   RACE  AND   ITS   CIVILIZATION 

selves.  I  enjoy  books,  and  would  have  a  library  as 
large  as  that  of  the  British  Museum  if  I  could  afford 
it;  but  I  rail  persistently  against  the  civilization  that 
leads  its  members  to  accept  things  they  find  in  books 
more  than  the  things  they  think  out  for  themselves. 
Joaquin  Miller  seemed  to  say  a  rude  and  foolish  thing 
when  he  answered  Elbert  Hubbard's  question,  "  Where 
are  your  books?"  with  a  curt,  "To  hell  with  books. 
When  I  want  a  book  I  write  one ; "  and  yet  he  really 
expressed  a  deep  and  profound  thought.  He  wanted 
to  show  his  absolute  contempt  for  the  idea  that  we 
read  books  in  order  to  help  thought.  The  fact  is,  the 
reading  too  much  in  books,  and  of  too  many  books,  is 
a  definite  hindrance  to  thought  —  a  positive  preventive 
of  thought.  I  do  not  believe  in  predigested  food  for 
either  body,  mind,  or  soul;  hence  I  am  opposed  to 
those  features  of  our  civilization  that  give  us  food 
that  needs  only  to  be  swallowed  (not  masticated 
and  enjoyed)  to  supply  nutriment;  that  give  us 
thought  all  ready  prepared  for  us  that  we  must 
accept  or  be  regarded  as  uneducated;  those  crumbs 
of  social  customs  that  a  frivolous  four  hundred  con- 
descend to  allow  to  fall  from  their  tables  to  us,  and 
that  we  must  observe  or  be  ostracized  as  "boors" 
and  "vulgar";  and  those  features  of  our  theological 
system  that  give  us  predigested  spiritual  food  that  we 
must  accept  and  follow  or  be  damned.  I  am  willing  to 
go  and  feed  with  the  Scotch  and  the  horses  (vide  John- 
son's foolish  remark  about  oatmeal),  and  be  regarded 
as  uneducated  and  be  ostracized  both  as  a  boor  and 
a  vulgarian,  and  even  be  damned  in  words,  which, 
thank  God,  is  quite  as  far  as  He  allows  any  one 
human  being  to  "damn"  another.  For  I  am  opposed 
to  these  things  one  and  all. 

31 


\YIIITE    RACE   AND   ITS   CIVILIZATION 


;H;:U:Ar::f|«M;4«i(iili««p[' 


I  am  not  a  ])essimist  jiboiit  our  civilization:  I  am  an 
optimist.  Yet  1  often  find  my  optimism  strongly  tinged 
with  pessimistic  color.  And  how  can  it  be  otherwise? 
Can  any  thinking  man  have  much  respect  —  any,  in 
fact  —  for  that  phase  of  his  civilization  which  permits 
the  bnilding  of  colossal  fortunes  l)y  the  monopolization 
of  the  sale  of  necessities,  when  the  poor  who  are  com- 
pelled to  buy  tliese  necessities  are 
growing  poorer  and  poorer  each 
year? 

Can  I  respect  any  civilization 
that  for  the  125  years  of  its  exist- 
ence has  refused  to  pass  laws  for 
the  preservation  of  the  purity  of 
the  food  of  its  poor  ?  The  rich 
can  buy  what  and  wdiere  they 
choose,  but  for  the  whole  period  of 
our  existence  we  have  been  so 
bound,  hand  and  foot,  by  the 
money-makers  who  liave  vitiated 
our  food  supply  that  they  might 
add  a  few^  more  millions  to  their 
dirty  hoard  of  ungodly  dollars  that 
we  have  closed  our  eyes  to  the  physical  and  spiritual 
demoralization  that  has  come  to  the  poor  by  the  poi- 
soned concoctions  handed  out  to  them  —  under  pro- 
tection of  United  States  laws  —  as  foods. 

Can  I  respect  an  educational  institution  that  edu- 
cates the  minds  of  its  children  at  the  expense  of  their 
bodies?  That  has  so  little  common  sense  and  good 
judgment  as  to  be  putting  its  children  through  fierce 
competitive  examinations  when  they  should  be  strength- 
ening their  bodies  at  the  critical  age  of  adolescence  ? 
Can    I    bow    down    before    the    civilization    whose 

32 


.fill:.,  Km.    11  .  M^ 

.  M...M  ,  ••    .••» 

/;••:,  w  .  ••..:•.•;/"■' 


INDIAN    BEADWOUK    OF 
GREEK    FRET   DESIGN. 


WHITE   RACE   AND   ITS   CIVILIZATION 

highest  educational  estabhshments  —  Harvard,  Yale, 
Princeton,  Cornell,  New  York,  Columbia,  Johns  Hop- 
kins, followed  by  hosts  of  others  of  lesser  institutions  — 
every  year  send  out  from  five  to  thirty  per  cent  of  their 
students  broken  down  in  health  ?  What  is  the  good  of 
all  the  book-learning  that  all  the  ages  have  amassed 
unless  one  has  physical  health  to  enjoy  it?  Only  this 
last  year  a  Harvard  graduate  came  to  me  who  had 
taken  high  degree  in  the  study  of  law  and  was  adjudged 
eminently  prepared  to  begin  to  practice  his  profession. 
But  his  health  was  gone.  He  was  a  nervous  and  phys- 
ical wreck.  His  physicians  commanded  complete  rest 
for  a  year,  and  suggested  that  five  years  would  be 
none  too  long  for  him  to  spend  in  recuperation.  When 
this  young  man  asked  me  to  give  him  my  candid  ex- 
pressions upon  the  matter,  I  asked  him  if  he  thought 
imbeciles  could  have  made  a  worse  mess  of  his  "educa- 
tion" than  had  the  present  system,  which  had  culti- 
vated his  intellect,  but  so  disregarded  the  needs  of  his 
body  that  his  intellect  was  powerless  to  act. 

Let  the  wails  of  agony  of  the  uncounted  dead  who 
have  been  hurried  to  their  graves  by  this  idolatrous 
worship  of  a  senseless,  godless,  heartless  Moloch 
called  "education"  answer  for  me  when  people  ask  me 
to  respect  this  feature  of  our  higher  civilization,  and  to 
these  wails  let  there  be  added  those  of  awakened 
parents  who  have  seen,  when  too  late,  into  what  acts 
akin  to  murder  their  blind  worship  of  this  idol  had  led 
them.  Add  to  these  the  cries  of  pain  from  ten  thousand 
beds  of  affliction  occupied  by  those  still  living,  but 
whose  bodies  have  "broken  down"  as  the  result  of 
"over-study." 

Then  add  to  the  vast  pyramid  of  woe  the  heart- 
aches  of  hopes   banished,   of  ambitions  thwarted,   of 

33 


WHITE   RACE   AND   ITS   CIVILIZATION 

desires  and  aims  eompletely  lost,  and  one  can  well 
understand  why  I  am  not  a  worshiper  at  this  shrine. 
If  I  were  to  choose  —  as  every  parent  must  for  his 
young  children  who  are  not  yet  capable  of  thought 
—  between  a  happy,  because  physically  healthy,  life, 


A    SABOBA    INDIAN    WITH    BASKET    IN    WHICH    IS    SYMBOLIZED    THE 
HISTORY    OF    HIS    TRIBE. 


though  uneducated  by  the  schools,  and  an  educated 
and  unhappy,  because  unhealthy,  life  for  children, 
I  w^ould  say :  Give  me  ignorance  (of  books  and  schools) 
and    health,     rather    than    education    (of   books    and 

34 


WHITE   RACE  AND   ITS   CIVILIZATION 

schools)  and  a  broken  down,  nervous,  irritable  body. 
But  it  is  by  no  means  necessary  to  have  uneducated 
children,  even  though  they  should  never  see  a  school. 
While  I  now  write  (I  am  enjoying  a  few  days  on 
the  "rim"  of  the  Grand  Canyon)  I  am  meet- 
ing daily  a  remarkable  family.  The  man  is  far 
above  the  average  in  scholastic  and  book  educa- 
tion. He  is  a  distinguished  physician,  known  not 
only  within  the  bounds  of  his  own  large  state,  but 
throughout  the  whole  United  States  and  Europe;  his 
methods  are  largely  approved  by  men  at  the  head  of 
the  profession,  and  his  lucrative  and  enormous  practice 
demonstrates  the  success  of  his  system,  with  the  com- 
plete approval  of  the  most  conservative  of  his  rigidly 
conservative  profession.  He  was  until  quite  recently 
a  professor  in  one  of  the  largest  universities  of  the 
United  States,  and  was  therefore  competent  from  inside 
knowledge  to  pass  judgment  upon  the  methods  of  the 
highest  educational  establishments.  He  has  money 
enough  to  place  his  two  daughters  wherever  he  chooses, 
and  to  spend  most  of  his  time  near  them.  Yet  he  has 
deliberately  (and  I  think  most  wisely)  kept  them  out  of 
school,  and  made  the  strength  and  vigor  of  their  bodies 
his  first  consideration.  Both  ride  horseback  (astride, 
of  course)  with  the  poise  and  confidence  of  skilled 
vaqueros;  both  can  undertake  long  journeys,  horseback 
or  afoot,  that  would  exhaust  most  young  men  students ; 
and  now  at  15  and  17  years  of  age  they  are  models 
of  physical  health  and  beauty,  and  at  the  same  time 
the  elder  sister  is  better  educated  in  the  practical, 
sane,  useful,  living  affairs  of  men  and  women  than  any 
girl  of  her  age  I  have  ever  met.  I  take  this  object- 
lesson,  therefore,  as  another  demonstration  of  the 
truth  of  my  position,  and  again  I  refuse  to  bow  down 

35 


WHITE   RA(  E   AM)   ITS   (  IMLIZATION 

before  the  great  fetich  of  our  inochMii  civilization  — 
"  scholastic    education." 

There  have  been  wonderful  civilizations  in  the 
past,  —  Persia,  Asia  ]\Iinor,  Etruria,  Greece,  Rome, 
Egypt,  the  floors,  —  and  yet  they  are  gone.  A  few 
remnants  are  left  to  us  in  desert  temples,  sand-buried 
proplya\  dug-up  vases  and  carvings,  gloi'ious  archi- 
tecture, sublime  marbles,  and  soul-stirring  literature. 
Where  are  the  peoples  who  created  these  things  ?  Wliy 
could  they  not  propagate  their  kind  sufficiently  well  to 
at  least  keep  their  races  intact,  and  hold  what  they  had 
gained  ?  We  know^  they  did  not  do  it.  Wliy  ?  Call 
it  moral  or  physical  deterioration,  or  both,  it  is  an  unde- 
niable fact  that  physical  weakness  rendered  the  de- 
scendants of  these  peoples  incapable  of  living  upon 
their  ancestors'  high  planes,  or  made  them  an  easy 
prey  to  a  stronger  and  more  vigorous  race.  I  am  fully 
inclined  to  the  belief  that  it  was  their  moral  declensions 
that  led  to  their  physical  deterioration;  yet  I  also 
firmly  ])elieve  that  a  better  and  truer  morality  can  be 
sustained  upon  a  healthy  and  vigorous  body  than  upon 
one  which  is  diseased  and  enervated. 

Hence  I  plead,  wath  intense  earnestness,  for  a  better 
physical  life  for  our  growing  boys  and  girls,  our  young 
men  and  women,  and  especially  for  our  prospective 
parents.  Healthy  progeny  cannot  be  expected  from 
diseased  stock.  The  fathers  and  mothers  of  the  race 
must  be  strengthened  physically.  Every  child  should 
be  healthily,  happily,  and  cheerfully  born,  as  well  as 
borne.  The  sunshine  of  love  should  smile  down  from 
the  faces  of  both  parents  into  the  child's  eyes  the 
first  moment  of  its  life.  Thus  the  elixir  of  joy  enters 
its  heart,  and  joy  is  as  essential  to  the  proper  develop- 
ment of  a  child  as  sunshine  is  to  that  of  a  flower.    This 

36 


DAT-SO-LA-LE,    THE    WASHOE    BASKET   WEAVER,    SOME    OF    WHOSE 
BASKETS    HAVE    SOLD    FOR   FABULOUS   PRICES. 


37 


WHITE   RACE   AND   ITS   CIVILIZATION 

is  a  pliysical  world,  even  thoiigli  it  he  only  passing 
phenomena,  and  n])on  its  recognition  nuich  of  our 
happiness  depends.  Our  Christian  Science  friends 
see  in  physical  inharmony  only  an  error  of  mortal 
mind,  to  be  demonstrated  over  by  divine  mind.  That 
demonstration,  however,  produces  the  effect  we  call 
physical  health.  This  is  what  I  long  for,  seek  after, 
strive  for,  both  for  myself,  my  family,  my  children,  my 
race.  Any  and  Jill  means  that  can  successfully  be 
used  to  promote  that  end  I  believe  in  and  heartily 
commend.  Let  us  call  it  what  we  will,  and  attain  it 
as  how  we  may,  the  desirable  thing  in  our  national 
and  individual  life  to-day  is  health, — health  of  the 
whole  man,  body,  mind,  soul.  Because  I  firmly  be- 
lieve the  Indians  have  ideas  that,  if  carried  out,  will 
aid  us  to  attain  this  glorious  object,  I  have  dared  to 
suggest  that  this  proud  and  haughty  white  race  may  sit 
at  their  feet  and   learn   of  them. 

I  myself  began  life  handicapped  with  serious  ill 
health,  and  for  twenty-two  years  was  seldom  free  from 
pain.  Nervous  irritability  required  constant  battling. 
But  when  I  began  to  realize  the  benefit  of  life  spent  in 
God's  great  out-of-doors,  and  devoted  much  of  my 
time  to  climbing  up  and  down  steep  canyon  walls, 
riding  over  the  plains  and  mountains  of  Nevada  and 
California,  wandering  through  the  aseptic  wastes  of 
the  deserts  of  the  Southwest,  rowing  and  swimming  in 
the  waters  of  the  great  Colorado  River,  sleeping  nightly 
in  the  open  air,  and  in  addition,  coming  in  intimate 
contact  with  many  tribes  of  Indians,  and  learning  from 
them  how  to  live  a  simple,  natural,  and  therefore 
healthy  life,  —  these  things  not  only  gave  to  me  almost 
perfect  health,  but  have  suggested  the  material  of 
which  this  book  is  made. 

38 


CHAPTER   III 
THE    INDIAN  AND  NASAL    AND    DEEP   BREATHING 

npHE  Indian  believes  absolutely  in  nasal  breathing. 
''■  Again  and  again  I  have  seen  the  Indian  mother,  as 
soon  as  her  child  was  born,  watch  it  to  see  if  it  breathed 
properly.  If  not,  she  would  at  once  pinch  the  child's 
lips  together  and  keep  them  pinched  until  the  breath 
was  taken  in  and  exhaled  easily  and  naturally  through 
the  nostrils.  If  this  did  not  answer,  I  have  watched 
her  as  she  took  a  strip  of  buckskin  and  tied  it  as  a 
bandage  below  the  chin  and  over  the  crown  of  the 
head,  forcing  the  jaws  together,  and  then  with  another 
bandage  of  buckskin  she  covered  the  lips  of  the  little 
one.  Thus  the  habit  of  nasal  breathing  was  formed 
immediately  the  child  saw  the  light,  and  it  knew  no 
other  method. 

As  one  walks  through  the  streets  of  every  large  city, 
he  sees  the  dull  and  vacant  eye,  the  inert  face,  of  the 
mouth-breather;  for,  as  every  physician  well  knows, 
the  mouth-breather  suffers  from  lack  of  memory  and 
a  general  dullness  of  the  intellect.  Not  only  that,  but 
he  habitually  submits  himself  to  unnecessary  risks  of 
disease.  In  breathing  through  the  nose,  the  disease 
germs,  which  abound  in  our  city  streets  and  are  sent 
floating  through  the  air  by  every  passing  wind,  are 
caught  by  the  gluey  mucus  or  the  capillaries  of  the 
mucous  membranes.  The  wavy  air  passages  of  the 
nose  lead  one  to  assume  that  they  are  so  constructed 
expressly  for  this  purpose,  as  the  germs,  if  they  escape 
being  caught  at  one  angle,  are  pretty  sure  to  be  trapped 

39 


THE    INDIAN   AND   BREATHING 

in  turning  aiiotluM'.  When  this  iiiuciis  is  expelled 
in  the  act  of  "hlowinij;  the  nose,"  the  germs  go  with  it, 
and  disease  is  preventcMl.  Bnt  when  these  germs 
are  taken  in  through  the  mouth,  they  go  directly  into 
the  throat,  the  hronchial  tu})es,  and  the  lungs,  and  if 
they  are  lively  and  strong,  they  lodge  there  and  take 


INDIAN    SHOWING    EFFECT    OF    DEEP    BREATHING    IN    WONDERFUL    LUNG 

DEVELOPMENT. 
40 


THE   INDIAN   AND   BREATHING 

root  and  propagate  with  such  fearful  rapidity  that  in 
a  very  short  time  a  new  patient  with  tuberculosis, 
diphtheria,  typhoid,  or  some  other  disease,  is  created. 
Hence,  emulate  the  Indian,  Breathe  through  your 
nose;  do  not  use  it  as  an  organ  of  speech.  At  the  same 
time  that  you  care  for  yourself,  watch  your  children, 
and  even  if  you  have  to  bandage  them  up  while  they 
are  asleep,  as  the  Indians  do,  compel  them  to  form 
early  this  useful  and  healthful  habit  of  nasal  breathing. 
But  not  only  do  the  Indians  breathe  through  the 
nose :  they  are  also  experts  in  the  art  of  deep  breath- 
ing. The  exercises  that  are  given  in  open-air  deep 
breathing  at  the  Battle  Creek  sanitarium  each  morn- 
ing show  that  we  are  learning  this  useful  and  beneficial 
habit  from  them.  When  I  first  began  to  visit  the  Hopis, 
in  northern  Arizona,  I  was  awakened  every  morning 
in  the  wee  sma'  hours,  as  I  slept  in  my  blankets  in 
the  open  at  the  foot  of  the  mesa  upon  which  the  towns 
are  located,  by  cow-bells,  as  if  a  number  of  cows  were 
being  driven  out  to  pasture.  But  in  the  daytime  I 
could  see  no  cows  nor  any  evidence  of  their  existence. 
When  I  asked  where  they  were,  my  questions  brought 
forth  nothing  but  a  wondering  stare.  Cows  ?  They 
had  no  cows.  What  did  I  mean  ?  Then  I  explained 
about  the  bells,  and  as  I  explained,  a  merry  laugh 
burst  upon  my  ears.  "Cows.^  Those  are  not  cows. 
To-morrow  morning  when  you  hear  them,  you  jump 
up  and  watch."  I  did  so,  and  to  my  amazement  I  saw 
fleeing  through  the  early  morning  dusk  a  score  (more 
or  less)  of  naked  youths,  on  each  one  of  whom  a  cow- 
bell was  dangling  from  a  rope  or  strap  around  his  waist. 
Later  I  learned  this  running  was  done  as  a  matter  of 
religion.  Every  young  man  was  required  to  run  ten, 
fifteen,  twenty  miles,   and  even  double  this  distance, 

41 


TIIK   INDIAN   AND   BREATHING 

upon  certain  allotted  mornings,  as  a  matter  of  religion. 
This  develops  a  lung  capacity  that  is  nothing  short  of 
marvelous. 

This  great  lung  capacity  is  in  itself  a  great  source 
of  health,  vim,  energy,  and  power.  It  means  the 
power  to  take  in  a  larger  supply  of  oxygen  to  purify 
and  vivify  the  blood.  Half  the  peoj)le  of  our  cities 
do  not  know  what  real  true  life  is,  because  their  blood 
is  not  well  enough  oxygenated.  The  people  who  are 
full  of  life  and  exuberance  and  power  —  the  men 
and  women  who  accomplish  things  —  generally  have 
large  lung  capacity,  or  else  have  the  faculty  of  using 
all  they  have  to  the  best  advantage. 

To  a  public  speaker,  a  singer,  a  lawyer,  a  preacher, 
or  a  teacher,  this  large  lung  capacity  is  invaluable; 
for,  all  things  else  being  equal,  the  voice  itself  will 
possess  a  clearer,  more  resonant  quality  if  the  lungs, 
the  abdomen,  and  the  diaphragm  are  full  of,  or  stretched 
out  by,  plenty  of  air.  These  act  as  a  resonant  sound- 
ing-chamber which  increases  the  carrying  quality  of 
the  voice  to  a  w^onderful  extent. 

For  years  I  have  watched  with  keenest  observation 
all  our  greatest  operatic  singers,  actors,  orators,  and 
public  speakers,  and  those  who  possess  the  sweet 
and  resonant  voices  are  the  ones  who  breathe  deep 
and  own  and  control  these  capacious  lungs.  Only 
a  few  weeks  ago  I  went  to  hear  Sarah  Bernhardt,  the 
world's  most  wonderful  actress,  who  at  sixty-three 
years  of  age  still  entrances  thousands,  not  only  by  the 
wonder  of  her  art,  but  by  the  marvelous  quality  of  her 
voice.  What  did  I  find  ?  A  w^oman  who  has  learned 
this  lesson  of  deep  breathing  as  the  Indians  breathe. 
She  breathes  well  dow^n,  filling  the  lungs  so  that  they 
thrust  out  the  ribs.     She  has  no  waist-line,  her  body 

42 


THE  INDIAN   AND   BREATHING 

descending  (as  does  that  of  the  Venus)  in  an  almost 
straight  hne  from  armpit  to  hips.  The  result  is,  that, 
with  such  a  resonant  air  cavity,  she  scarcely  raises  her 
voice  above  the  conversational  pitch,  and  yet  it  is 
easily  heard  by  two  or  three  thousand  people. 

It  is  needless  to  add  that  every  Indian  woman  is 
intelligent  enough  to  value  health,  lung  capacity,  and 
the  power  to  speak  with  force,  vigor,  and  energy  more 
than  she  values  " fashionable  appearance";  hence  none 
of  them  can  be  found  in  their  native  condition  fool- 
ish enough  to  wear  corsets. 

I  never  knew  an  Indian  woman  who  "needed  a 
corset,  don't  you  know,  to  brace  her  up,  to  sustain  her 
weak  back."  Of  course,  if  a  white  woman  is  large 
and  fleshy,  and  values  appearance  more  than  health, 
I  suppose  she  will  have  her  own  way  anyhow,  but 
this  other  reason  that  women  give  for  the  use  of  the 
corset  I  never  heard  fall  from  the  lips  of  an  Indian 
woman.  She  is  strong  and  well,  and  needs  no  artifi- 
cial support.  I  regret  very  much  to  see  that  while 
sensible  women  are  giving  up  the  corset,  or  at  least 
materially  loosening  its  strings,  men  are  beginning  to 
wear  belts  in  place  of  suspenders.  It  is  just  as  injuri- 
ous to  a  man  to  encircle  his  waist  and  squeeze  together 
the  vital  organs  as  it  is  to  a  woman.  It  is  bad,  abso- 
lutely, completely,  thoroughly  bad,  at  all  times, 
in  all  circumstances,  for  all  people.  The  wasp-like 
waist,  whether  in  men  or  women,  is  a  sign  either  of 
recklessness,  gross  ignorance,  or  deliberate  preference 
for  a  false  figure  over  a  normal  one  and  health.  The 
hips  are  a  most  important  part  of  a  human  being's 
anatomy.     As  Dr.   Kellogg  has  well  said: 

"No  physical  endowment  is  of  more  importance 
for  a  long  and  a  vigorous  life  than  capacious  lungs. 

43 


THE   INDIAN   AND   BREATHING 

The  intensity  and  efficiency  of  an  itKlividual's  life 
depend  very  lar<:;ely  ii})()n  the  amount  of  air  lie  habit- 
ually passes  in  and  out  of  his  lungs,  just  as  the  inten- 
sity of  a  fire,  granting  plenty  of  fuel,  depends  upon  the 
rate  at  Ayhieh  the  air  is  brought  in  contact  with  the 
fuel.  It  has  been  found  that  lung  ca])acity  depends 
yery  largely  upon  the  height;  thus,  the  taller  a  person 
the  greater  his  lung  capacity,  other  things  being  equal. 
The  following  table  shows  the  lung  capacity,  or  rather 
the  amount  of  air  which  can  be  forced  out  of  the  lungs, 
the  so-called  yital  ca])acity.  for  men  of  different  heights: 


Height 
Inches 

Weight 
Pounds 

Vital  Capacity 
Cubic  Inches 

64 

115 

205 

65 

126 

228 

66 

126 

230 

67 

133 

244 

68 

134 

248 

69 

140 

254 

70 

141 

256 

71 

150 

272 

72 

151 

287 

"  The  proper  time  for  the  deyelopment  of  the  chest 
is  in  childhood  and  in  youth.  The  best  of  all  means 
for  increasing  the  chest  capacity  is  running  and  active 
sports  of  all  sorts.  ^Mountain  climbing,  going  up  and 
down  stairs,  and  all  kinds  of  exercises  which  produce 
strong  breathing  movements  are  effective  means  of 
chest  development.  Exercises  of  this  nature  are  far 
superior  to  breathing  exercises,  so-called,  of  whatever 
sort.  Breathing  exercises  in  which  the  lungs  are 
forcibly  compelled  to  take  in  more  than  the  ordinary 
amount  of  air  very  soon  become  tiresome.     The  effort 

44 


THE   INDIAN   AND   BREATHING 


is  wholly  voluntary,  and  the  muscles  soon  weary. 
When,  however,  a  thirst  for  air  is  created  by  some 
active  exercise  Vv^hich  fills  the  blood  with  carbonic-acid 
gas,  so  that  deeper  and  more  rapid  breathing  is  neces- 
sary to  rid  the  body  of  this 
poisonous  gas  and  to  take  in 
a  supply  of  oxygen  in  its 
place,  the  act  of  breathing  is 
no  longer  difficult,  embar- 
rassing, or  tiresome,  but  is, 
on  the  other  hand,  a  pleasure 
and  a  gratification.  The 
impulse  which  comes  from 
within,  from  the  so-called 
respiratory  centers,  so  excites 
the  respiratory  muscles  that 
they  cause  the  chest  to  exe- 
cute the  strongest  breathing 
movements  with  the  greatest 
ease,  ventilating  every  portion 
of  the  lungs,  fill- 
ing every  air-cell 
to  its  utmost  ca- 
pacity. 

''Runners 
always  have  large 
and  active  chests, 
whereas  sedentary  persons  have  chests  of  limited  capa- 
city and  rigid  walls.  When  a  chest  is  not  stretched  to 
its  utmost  capacity  many  times  daily,  it  rapidly  loses 
its  flexibility.  This  is  especially  true  after  the  age  of 
thirty.  In  persons  who  have  passed  middle  life,  the 
rigidity  of  the  chest  is  so  great  that  there  can  be  no 
very  considerable  increase  in  size.     By  development  of 

45 


ONE    OF    THE 
TRAILS  UP  WHICH 
THE  HOPIS    CLIMB 
AT   FULL   SPEED. 


THE   INDIxVN   AND   BREATHING 

the  respiratory  iiuiselcs  the  chest  capacity  may  be  to 
some  degree  increased,  but  the  proper  time  for  chest 
development  is  in  cliildliood  and  youth.  At  tliis 
period,  also,  the  integrity  of  the  heart  renders  possible 
witliout  injury  those  vigorous  exercises  which  are  essen- 
tial to  secure  tlie  higliest  degree  of  chest  develo])ment. 

"  Probably  the  best  of  all  exercises  for  the  develop- 
ment of  the  chest  and  breathing  powers  is  swimming. 
The  position  of  the  body,  the  head  held  well  back  and 
the  chest  well  forward,  and  the  active  movements  of 
the  arms  and  limbs  render  swimming  a  most  efficient 
breathing  exercise.  The  contact  of  cold  water  with 
the  skin  also  actively  stimulates  the  movement  of  the 
chest,  while  at  the  same  time  it  renders  possible  pro- 
longed and  vigorous  muscular  movements  by  increas- 
ing the  energy  and  activity  of  the  muscles. 

"  Special  breathing  exercises,  as  well  as  those  active 
muscular  movements  which  induce  a  thirst  for  air,  are 
beneficial  to  the  lungs  by  maintaining  the  flexibility 
of  the  chest,  strengthening  the  respiratory  muscles, 
and  ventilating  the  lungs.  These  movements  also 
exercise  a  most  extraordinary  beneficial  effect  upon  the 
stomach,  liver,  and  other  organs  which  lie  below  the 
diaphragm.  Each  time  the  dia})hragm  contracts,  it 
gives  the  liver,  stomach,  and  adjacent  organs  a  hearty 
squeeze,  so  to  speak,  emptying  out  the  blood  con- 
tained in  these  parts  as  one  may  by  compression  empty 
a  moist  sponge.  All  movements  which  increase  the 
strength  of  the  abdominal  muscles  are  an  important 
means  of  aiding  and  improving  the  breathing  function." 

From  this  it  will  be  seen,  therefore,  that  everything 
that  prevents  the  full  and  free  exercise  of  the  lungs, 
especially  in  the  lower  portions,  is  of  direct  injury  to 
the  body.     Men  need  all  the  lung  capacity  and  power 

46 


THE   INDIAN   AND   BREATHING 

they  can  gain  in  order  to  sustain  their  energy  in  the 
battle  of  hfe;  and  women,  especially  young  women, 
who  are  to  become  the  future  mothers  of  the  race, 
should  be  taught  that  the  art  of  healthy,  deep  breathing 
is  one  of  the  fine  arts,  and  the  most  important  one  that 
they  can  learn. 


47 


CHAPTER    ly 

THE   INDIAN   AND   OUT-OF-DOOR  LIFE 

npHE  Indian  is  an  absolute  believer  in  the  virtue 
''■  of  the  outdoor  life,  not  as  an  occasional  thing, 
but  as  his  regular,  set,  uniform  habit.  He  lives  out  of 
doors;  not  only  does  his  body  remain  in  the  open,  but 
his  mind,  his  soul,  are  ever  also  there.  Except  in  the 
very  cold  weather  his  house  is  free  to  every  breeze  that 
blows.  He  laughs  at  "drafts."  "Catching  cold" 
is  a  something  of  which  he  knows  absolutely  nothing. 
When  he  learns  of  white  people  shutting  themselves 
up  in  houses  into  which  the  fresh,  pure,  free  air  of 
the  plains  and  deserts,  often  laden  with  the  healthful 
odors  of  the  pines,  firs,  balsams  of  the  forest,  cannot 
come,  he  shakes  his  head  at  the  folly,  and  feels  as  one 
w^ould  if  he  saw  a  man  slamming  his  door  in  the  face 
of  his  best  friend.  Virtually  he  sleeps  out  of  doors, 
eats  out  of  doors,  works  out  of  doors.  When  the  w^omen 
make  their  baskets  and  pottery,  it  is  always  out  of  doors, 
and  their  best  beadwork  is  always  done  in  the  open. 
The  men  make  their  bows  and  arrows,  dress  theii 
buckskin,  make  their  moccasins  and  buckskin  clothes, 
and  perform  nearly  all  their  ceremonials  out  of  doors. 

Our  greatest  scientific  fighters  against  tuberculosis 
are  emulating  the  Indian  in  the  fact  that  even  in  the 
winter  of  the  East  they  advocate  that  their  patients 
sleep  out  of  doors.  Pure  air,  and  abundance  of  it, 
is  their  cry. 

"Taking  cold"  comes,  not  from  breathing  "night 
air,"  but  generally  from  inflammation  of  the  mucous 

49 


THE   INDIAN   AND   OUT-OF-DOOR   LIFE 

membranes  caused  by  impure  air, —  the  air  of  a  heated 
room  from  wliich  all  the  pure  air  has  been  exhausted 
by  being  breathed  again  and  again  into  the  lungs  of  its 
deluded  occupants,  each  exhalation  sending  with  it  a 
fresh  amount  of  ])()is()n  to  vitiate  the  little  good  that 
remains. 

Men  often  go  to  gymnasiums  in  the  city  to  get 
exercise.  The  air  is  vitiated  by  the  presence  of  others, 
and  as  respiration  is  increased  by  the  exercise,  impure 
air  is  taken  into  the  lungs,  and  the  prime  object  of  the 
exercise  is  defeated.  For  it  is  not  so  much  to  develop 
muscles  as  it  is  to  stimulate  the  general  action  of  the 
whole  body  that  gymnastics  should  be  indulged  in. 
Vigorous  exercise  demands  deep  breathing;  if  the 
air  breathed  is  pure,  the  blood  thereby  becomes  more 
oxygenated  or  vivified.  As  this  vitalized  blood  circu- 
lates, it  carries  its  life-giving  new  strength  and  energy 
to  every  part  of  the  body,  so  that  the  whole  man  feels 
the  increased  vigor.  But  let  the  air  be  impure,  death 
instead  of  life  is  given  to  the  blood.  Hence,  where 
possible,  all  vigorous  exercise  should  be  taken  out  of 
doors  in  the  pure  air  and  sunlight,  and  if  this  is  not 
possible,  every  door,  window,  and  avenue  through 
which  outside  air  can  be  brought  inside  should  be 
placed  wide  open,  and  Ice'pt  open  during  the  whole 
time  of  the  exercises.  If  spectators  come,  and  on  their 
account  windows  and  doors  are  closed,  a  positive 
injury  is  being  done  to  the  exercisers.  Far  better 
turn  out  the  spectators  than  shut  out  God's  pure  air. 

What  a  pitiable  thing  it  is  that  our  civilization  can 
do  no  better  for  us  than  to  make  us  slaves  to  indoor 
life,  so  that  we  have  to  go  and  take  artificial  exercise 
in  order  to  preserve  our  health.  Think  of  the  vigor  and 
strength,  the  robustness  and  power,  the  joy  and  the 

50 


THE   INDIAN   AND   OUT-OF-DOOR   LIFE 

health,  that  are  the  possession  of  men  and  women 
of  outdoor  hfe.  Let  any  one  who  wishes  to  know 
what  this  means  read  John  Muir's  Mountains  of 
California.  In  it  he  tells  of  his  years  of  experiences 
climbing  the  terribly  difficult  peaks  of  the  Sierras, 
the  exploring  of  glaciers,  the  sleeping  out  at  night 
during  snow-storms  in  the  depth  of  winter  without 
either  an  overcoat  or  a  single  blanket.  One  of  the 
most  thrilling  of  experiences  is  told  as  simply  as  the 
narrative  of  a  child.  He  was  out  during  a  terrific 
wind-storm.  Says  he:  "When  the  storm  began  to 
sound  I  lost  no  time  in  pushing  out  into  the  woods  to 
enjoy  it.  For  on  such  occasions  Nature  has  always 
something  rare  to  show  us,  and  the  danger  to  life  and 
limb  is  hardly  greater  than  one  would  experience 
crouching  deprecatingly  beneath   a   roof." 

Think  of  a  city-bred  man,  a  society  man,  deliber- 
ately walking  out  into  a  storm  to  enjoy  it. 

"It  was  still  early  morning  when  I  found  myself 
fairly  adrift.     Delicious   sunshine  came  pouring  over 

the  hills I   heard    trees  falling   for   hours   at 

the  rate  of  one  every  two  or  three  minutes;  some 
uprooted,  partly  on  account  of  the  loose,  water-soaked 
condition  of  the  ground ;  others  broken  straight  across, 
where  some  weakness  caused  by  fire  had  determined 
the  spot.  The  gestures  of  the  various  trees  made  a 
delightful  study.  Young  sugar-pines,  light  and  feath- 
ery as  squirrel-tails,  were  bowing  almost  to  the  ground; 
while  the  grand  old  patriarchs,  whose  massive  boles 
had  been  tried  in  a  hundred  storms,  waved  solemnly 
above  them,  their  long,  arching  branches  streaming 
fluently  on  the  gale,  and  every  needle  thrilling  and 
singing  and  shedding  off  keen  lances  of  light  like  a 
diamond. 

51 


THE   INDIAN   AND   OUT-OF-DOOR   LIFE 

"I  drifted  on  through  the  midst  of  this  passionate 
music  and  motion,  across  many  a  glen  from  ridge  to 
ridge;  often  haUing  in  the  lee  of  a  rock  for  shelter,  or 
to  gaze  and  listen.  Even  when  the  grand  anthem  had 
swelled  to  its  highest  pitch,  I  could  distinctly  hear  the 
varying  tones  of  individual  trees, —  spruce  and  fir  and 
pine  and  leafless  oak, —  and  even  the  infinitely  gentle 
rustle  of  the  withered  grasses  at  my  feet.  Each  was 
expressing  itself  in  its  own  way,  —  singing  its  own 
song  and  making  its  own  peculiar  gestures,  —  mani- 
festing a  richness  of  variety  to  be  found  in  no  other 
forest  I  have  yet  seen. 

"  Toward  midday,  after  a  long,  tingling  scramble 
through  copses  of  hazel  and  ceanothus,  I  gained  the 
summit  of  the  highest  ridge  in  the  neighborhood; 
and  then  it  occurred  to  me  that  it  would  be  a  fine 
thing  to  climb  one  of  the  trees  to  obtain  a  wider  out- 
look and  get  my  ear  close  to  the  ^^olian  music  of  the 
topmost  needles.  But  under  the  circumstances  the 
choice  of  a  tree  was  a  serious  matter.  One  whose 
instep  was  not  very  strong  seemed  in  danger  of  being 
blown  down,  or  of  being  struck  by  others  in  case  they 
should  fall;  another  was  branchless  to  a  considerable 
height  above  the  ground,  and  at  the  same  time  too 
large  to  be  grasped  with  arms  and  legs  in  climbing; 
w^hile  others  were  not  favorably  situated  for  clear  views. 
After  cautiously  casting  about,  I  made  choice  of  the 
tallest  of  a  group  of  Douglas  spruces  that  were  grow- 
ing close  together  like  a  tuft  of  grass,  no  one  of  which 
seemed  likely  to  fall  unless  all  the  rest  fell  with  it. 
Though  comparatively  young,  they  were  about  100 
feet  high,  and  their  lithe,  brushy  tops  were  rocking 
and  swirling  in  wild  ecstasy.  Being  accustomed  to 
climb  trees  in  making  botanical  studies,  I  experienced 

52 


THE  INDIAN  AND   OUT-OF-DOOR  LIFE 


no  difficulty  in  reaching  the  top  of  this  one,  and  never 
before  did  I  enjoy  so  noble  an  exhilaration  of  motion. 
The  slender  tops  fairly  flapped  and  swished  in  the 
passionate  torrent,  bending  and  swirling  backward 
and  forward,  round  and  round,  tracing  indescribable 
combinations  of  vertical  and  horizontal  curves,  while 
I  clung  with  mus- 
cles firm  braced, 
like  a  bobolink  on 
a  reed. 

"In  its  wildest 
sweeps  my  tree- 
top  described  an 
arc  of  from  twenty 
to  thirty  degrees, 
but  I  felt  sure  of 
its  elastic  temper, 
having  seen  others 
of  the  same  species 
still  more  severely 
tried  —  bent  al- 
most to  the  ground , 
indeed,  in  heavy 
snows  —  without 
breaking  a  fiber. 
I  was    therefore 


HAVASUPAI    DRESSING    BUCKSKIN. 


safe,   and   free  to 

take  the  wind   into  my  pulses  and   enjoy  the  excited 

forest  from  my  superb  outlook 

"I  kept  my  lofty  perch  for  hours,  frequently  closing 
my  eyes  to  enjoy  the  music  by  itself,  or  to  feast  quietly 
on  the  delicious  fragrance  that  was  streaming  past." 

What  an  experience,  and  what  a  joy  to  feel  one's 
self  able  to  enjoy  it!    I  know  what  it  is.    Years  before 

53 


THE  INDIAN   AND   OUT-Ol   DOOR   LIFE 

I  had  read  this,  I  had  had  a  simihir  oxpcM-icncc  when 
drivinc:  over  tlie  hio;]i  Sierras  from  tlie  borders  of 
Oreiron,  Nevada,  and  California  down  into  southern 
CaHfornia.  Imagine  the  ordinary  business  man,  or 
clerk,  or  banker,  or  preacher,  or  lawyer,  or  doctor, 
daring  to  climb  so  high  a  tree,  and  especially  during 
such  a  storm.  Yet  such  a  day  so  spent  is  worth  more 
than  a  year  of  any  ordinary  man's  life. 

Edward  Robeson  Taylor,  the  poet-mayor  of  San 
Francisco,  once  expressed  his  keen  appreciation  of 
what  Nature  gives  to  the  man  who  loves  her  enough 
to  test  her.  And  he  has  made  the  test  many  a  time, 
in  the  Sierras,  in  the  forests,  in  the  deserts,  in  the 
Grand  Canyon,  as  well  as  on  the  Bay  of  San  Francisco. 
He  wrote: 

"In  him  that  on  the  rugged  breast  of  mountain 

Finds  his  joy  and  his  repose, 
"Who  makes  the  pine  his  fellow,  and  with  zest 

Treads  the  great  glaciers  and  their  kindred  snows, 
A  strength  is  planted  that  in  direst  test 

Dares  all  the  devils  of  Danger  to  oppose." 

Then,  too,  there  are  marvelous  healing  powers  in 
God's  great  out-of-doors.  The  vis  medicatrix  Na- 
turoe  is  no  fiction  of  the  imagination.  If  sick  people 
knew  enough,  were  wise  enough,  to  go  out  into  the  open 
and  discard  all  civilized  modes  of  life,  climbing  moun- 
tains, sleeping  on  pine  boughs,  swimming  in  the 
streams,  working  in  the  soil,  dabbling  in  the  hot  or 
cold  springs,  eating  the  ripe  fruits  and  nuts,  and 
bathing  the  whole  body  daily  in  bright  sunshine,  they 
would  be  brought  to  a  health  and  vigor  they  had  never 
before  known. 

I  have  often  wondered  why  thoughtful  white  people 
have  not  observed  that  insanity  is  practically  unknown 

54 


THE  INDIAN  AND   OUT-OF-DOOR   LIFE 

amongst  the  Indians.  Why  ?  Our  own  great  Emer- 
son once  wrote  a  clear  answer. 

"It  was,"  said  he,  "the  practice  of  the  Orientals, 
especially  of  the  Persians,  to  let  insane  persons  wander 
at  their  own  will  out  of  the  towns,  into  the  desert,  and, 
if  they  liked,  to  associate  with  wild  animals.  In  their 
belief,  wild  beasts,  especially  gazelles,  collect  around 
an  insane  person,  and  live  with  him  on  a  friendly 
footing.  The  patient  found  something  curative  in  that 
intercourse,  by  which  he  was  quieted  and  sometimes 
restored.  But  there  are  more  insane  persons  than  are 
called  so,  or  are  under  treatment  in  hospitals.  The 
crowd  in  the  cities,  at  the  hotels,  theaters,  card-tables, 
the  speculators  who  rush  for  investment  at  ten  per  cent, 
twenty  per  cent,  cent  per  cent,  are  all  more  or  less  mad 
—  these  point  the  moral,  and  persuade  us  to  seek 
in  the  fields  the  health  of  the  mind." 

But  not  only  does  healing  come  to  the  mind  in 
Nature:  the  diseased  soul  there  finds  medicine  and 
health. 

The  well-beloved  Robert  Louis  Stevenson  was  well 
aware  of  this  out-of-door  joy.  Among  many  other  fine 
things  on  the  subject  he  once  wrote  the  following  which 
fully  expresses  my  idea: 

"To  wash  in  one  of  God's  rivers  in  the  open  air  seems  to  me  a  sort  of 
cheerful  solemnity  or  semi-pagan  act  of  worship.  To  dabble  among 
dishes  in  a  bedroom  may  perhaps  make  clean  the  body;  but  the  imagi- 
nation takes  no  share  in  such  a  cleansing." 

One  of  our  great  artists  and  writers,  whose  life  went 
out  a  few  years  ago  in  sad  eclipse,  wrote  with  a  clarity 
of  vision  that  his  awful  experiences  had  taught  him: 
"  I  have  a  strange  longing  for  the  great  simple  primeval 
things,  such  as  the  sea,  to  me  no  less  of  a  mother  than 
the  earth.     It  seems  to  me  that  we  all  look  at  Nature 

55 


THE   INDIAN   AND    OUT-OF-DOOR    LIFE 


too  luucli,  and  live  with  her  too  httlc.  1  discern  great 
sanity  in  the  Greek  attitude.  They  never  chattered 
about  sunsets,  or  discussed  whether  the  shadows  on  the 
grass  w'ere  really  mauve  or  not.  But  they  saw  that  the 
sea  was  for  the  swimmer,  and  the  land  for  the  feet  of 
the    runner.     Tliev    loved    the    trees    for    the    shadow 


AN    APACHE    GRANDMOTHER    AND    SOME    BASKETS    OF    HER    OWN    DESIGN 
AND    WEAVE.      ALL    MADE    IN    THE    OPEN    AIR. 

that  they  cast,  and  the  forest  for  its  silence  at  noon. 
The  vineyard-dresser  wreathed  his  liair  with  ivy,  that 
he  might  keep  off  the  rays  of  the  sun  as  he  stooped 
over  the  young  shoots;  and  for  the  artist  and  the 
athlete,  the  tw  o  types  that  Greece  gave  us,  they  plaited 
w  ith  garlands  the  leaves  of  the  bitter  laurel  and  of  the 
wild  parsley,  which  else  had  been  of  no  service  to  men. 

56 


THE  INDIAN  AND   OUT-OF-DOOR  LIFE 

,  .  ,  .  I  feel  sure  that  in  elemental  forces  there  is 
purification,  and  I  want  to  go  back  to  them  and  live  in 
their  presence." 

How  literally  true  to  fact  is  this  assurance  of  puri- 
fication out  in  the  great  elemental  forces  and  places  of 
Nature,  and  how  the  Indian  daily  demonstrates  it. 
Thousands  can  testify  to  it.  Here  one  becomes  soothed. 
The  grinning  faces  of  hate  do  not  pursue  him  here. 
Nature  is  passionless  to  the  hunted  man.  She  is 
willing  to  be  wooed  and  won,  and  then  opens  up  her 
rich  treasures  to  the  guiltiest  and  vilest  of  men,  until 
they  regain  the  right  angle  of  vision,  then  the  desire 
for  purification,  then  repentance,  then  assurance  of 
forgiveness,  and  finally  their  self-respect.  Then  they 
are  able  to  return  (if  necessity  compels)  to  civilization 
and  bear  any  punishment  that  may  be  awarded,  for  in 
the  rugged  arms  of  Nature  they  have  absorbed  strength 
and  power,  — strength  of  will  and  power  of  soul  to  dare 
and  do  that  which  the  highest  within  them  compels. 

Who  that  has  read  the  De  Projundis  of  that  erratic 
and  brilliant  genius,  Oscar  Wilde,  has  not  felt  the  sad 
pathos  and  yet  intense  truth  of  his  concluding  words  ? 
They  are  Indian-like  in  their  direct  truth  and  native 
strength. 

*'A11  trials  are  trials  for  one's  life,  just  as  all  sen- 
tences are  sentences  of  death;  and  three  times  I  have 
been  tried.  The  first  time  I  left  the  box  to  be  arrested, 
the  second  time  to  be  led  back  to  the  house  of  deten- 
tion, the  third  time  to  pass  into  a  prison  for  two  years. 
Society,  as  we  have  constituted  it,  will  have  no  place 
for  me,  has  none  to  offer;  but  Nature,  whose  sweet 
rains  fall  on  unjust  and  just  alike,  will  have  clefts  in 
the  rocks  where  I  may  hide,  and  secret  valleys  in  whose 
silence  I  may  weep  undisturbed.     She  will  hang  the 

57 


THE   INDIAN   AND    OUT-OF-DOOR   LIFE 

niirlit  witli  stars  so  tluit  I  may  walk  al)n)a(l  iii  the  dark- 
noss  Avithout  stiunhling,  and  send  tlie  wind  over  my 
footprints  so  that  none  may  track  me  to  my  liuit. 
She  will  cleanse  me  in  great  waters,  and  with  bitter 
herbs  make  me  whole." 

This  is  one  of  the  great  wondei's  of  the  ont-of-door 
life  that  the  weary  and  sinful  of  the  white  race  Avould 
do  well  to  learn. 

But  not  only  does  health  of  mind  and  soul  return 
to  the  sinful  in  God's  great  out-of-doors :  the  most 
vigorous  and  pure,  healthy  and  })erfect,  minds  and 
souls  are  expanded  and  strengthened  v>ith  such  con- 
tact. Buddha,  Mahomet,  Moses,  David,  Elijah, 
Christ,  were  all  lovers  of  out-of-doors.  Vvashington, 
Lincoln,  and  Gai'field  were  all  out-of-door  men.  One 
learns  in  the  solitude  and  primitive  frankness  of  the 
free  life  of  the  out  doors  to  do  his  own  thinking,  un- 
trammeled  by  convention  or  prejudice.  He  sees  things 
as  they  are.  Ilis  soul  is  unclothed,  and  there  can  no 
longer  be  any  dece])tion  or  pretense.  So  he  becomes 
an  individual;  not  a  mere  rote  thinker  of  other's 
thoughts,  and  not  a  mere  parrot  of  other  men's  ideas. 
Edwin  Markham  could  never  have  written  The  Man 
with  the  Hoe  had  he  lived  only  in  the  city.  He  would 
never  have  seen  deeply  enough,  and  he  would  never 
have  dared  brave  the  conventional  pi-ejudices  of  the 
civilized  ( ':')  world  as  he  did  in  his  poem,  had  he  been 
city-bred.  But  because  he  thought  nakedly  before 
God  and  his  own  soul  he  was  compelled  to  see  the 
monstrousness  of  making  a  man  —  a  son  of  God, 
created  in  His  image  —  a  mere  clod  of  clay.  The 
idea  that  this  ])oem  is  a  reflection  upon  labor  is  utter 
nonsense.  It  is  merely  a  protest,  strong,  vigorous, 
forceful  as  a  thunder-storm,  against  comj)elling  some 

58 


THE   INDIAN   AND   OUT-OF-DOOR   LIFE 

men  to  labor  so  hard  that  they  have  neither  time  nor 
opportunity  for  mental  and  spiritual  occupation,  and 
have  thus  even  lost  the  desire  for  or  hope  of  gaining 
it.  Labor  is  ennobling,  but  man  is  made  for  more 
than  mere  physical  labor.  The  unequal  distribution 
of  affairs  in  this  life  causes  some  men  to  have  no 
physical  labor,  to  their  vast  disadvantage,  while  others 
have  nothing  but  physical  labor,  equally  to  their 
disadvantage.  The  finding  of  a  just  equilibrium 
between  these  two  extremes,  and  then  aiding  the  men 
of  both  extremes  to  see  the  need  of  each  helping  the 
other,  or  of  taking  some  of  the  burden  of  the  other, 
w^ould  result  in  the  immediate  benefiting  of  the  race 
to  an  incalculable  extent,  both  in  body,  mind,  and  soul. 
And  it  is  this  for  which  I  plead,  earnestly  calling  upon 
my  fellows  to  so  adjust  their  own  lives  that  they  will 
strike  the  happy  mean,  thus  living  (not  merely  talking 
about)  the  dignity  of  labor  as  well  as  the  joy  of  mental 
and  spiritual   occupation. 

Another  important  thing  must  not  be  overlooked. 
As  a  result  of  this  out-of-door  life  the  Indian  is  an  early 
riser  and  an  early  retirer  to  bed.  The  civilized  habit 
of  turning  night  into  day,  living  in  the  glare  of  gas  and 
electric  light,  is,  on  the  face  of  it,  artificial,  unnatural, 
and  unhealthful.  It  is  indefensible  from  every  stand- 
point. There  is  not  one  word  of  good  can  be  said  of  it. 
The  day  is  made  for  work,  the  night  for  rest  and 
sleep.  The  use  of  artificial  light  to  the  extent  we 
indulge  it  in  civilization  is  gradually  rendering  normal 
eyesight  a  rarity.  Children  are  born  with  myoptic 
and  other  eye-diseased  tendencies.  Sometimes  it 
seems  as  if  more  people,  of  all  ages,  wear  glasses 
than  use  their  natural  eyesight,  and  this  is  but  one 
of    many   sad    consequences    accruing    in    part   from 

59 


THE   INDIAN   AND   OUT-OF-DOOR   LIFE 

our    reversal  of   tlio  natural   use  of  the  day  and  night 
times. 

INIany  men,  literary  and  others,  wait  until  the  (juiet 
of  evening  to  do  tluMr  work.  They  often  stimulate 
themselves  with  eoffee,  and  even  stronger  beverages, 
and   then  work   until   the  "wee  sma'   hours,"  by  arti- 


^^^B^^^mB|J|mJs.                                                                                      -^^^k 

11 

1Il    '*''^9l 

..:^,^*;  .<^-  "^^'^      Wr. 

wKmMkl^^-r   WWi 

^^  W  M     ■ 

^^fi  i  ^  f 

jSH^^B^RJJP^pA^  ^^^ . 

HAPPY    AXD    HEALTHY    HOPI    CHILDREN,    ASKING    THE    AUTHOR    FOR 

CANDY'. 


ficial  light,  after  tlieij  liave  already  done  a  fair  daifs 
work.  We  used  to  hear  a  great  many  words  of  com- 
mendation of  the  youths  in  school  and  college  who 
"burned  the  midnight  oil."  If  I  had  my  way  I  would 
"use  the  leather  strap"  upon  all  these  burners-up  of 
their   physical    and    mental   forces    at   the    time    God 

60 


THE   INDIAN   AND   OUT-OF-DOOR   LIFE 

intended  they  should  be  abed  and  asleep.  The  time 
for  mental  work  is  in  the  early  morning  after  a  hearty, 
healthy,  good  night's  sleep.  The  body  is  strengthened, 
the  mind  refreshed,  and  thought  flows  easily  and 
readily,  because  all  weariness  has  disappeared  under 
the  influence  of  "tired  nature's  sweet  restorer." 
Mental  work  done  at  such  time  is  not  only  a  pleasure, 
but  is  well  done,  properly  done,  because  the  condi- 
tions are  right  for  its  doing. 

Nor  is  this  all.  There  is  a  mental  and  spiritual 
pleasure  given  to  the  early  riser  that  the  late  sleeper 
knows  nothing  of.  One  of  the  most  beautiful  baskets 
in  my  historic  collection  of  Indian  baskets  is  one  made 
by  a  Coahuila  woman  who  depicted  thereon  the 
white  light  of  the  morning  shining  through  the  dark 
silhouettes  of  the  sharp  points  of  the  giant  cactus. 
Her  sesthetic  enjoyment  was  thus  made  the  inspiration 
of  a  real  work  of  art. 

How  much  white  people  lose  by  not  seeing  and 
knowing  the  beauty  of  the  early  morning  hours,  — 
the  hours  just  preceding  dawn,  and  during  the  first 
outburst  of  the  sun!  A  friend  and  I  stood  out  the 
other  morning  before  sunrise,  looking  at  the  exquisite 
delicate  lights  over  the  mountain  peaks,  and  she  gave 
expression  to  the  above  thought,  and  only  a  few  days 
before  I  had  said  it  to  a  friend  as  we  had  wended  our 
way  from  El  Tovar  Hotel  at  the  Grand  Canyon  out 
to  O'Neill  Point  to  see  the  sunrise.  Elisha  Safford 
eloquently  speaks  as  follows  of  this : 

BEAUTY  OF  THE  MORNING 

Oh,  the  beauty  of  the  morning !     It  showers  its  splendors  down 
From  the  crimson  robes  of  sunrise,  the  azure   mountain's   crown; 
It  smiles  amid  the  waving  fields,  it  dapples  in  the  streams. 
It  breathes  its  sparkling  music  through  the  rapture  of  our  dreams. 

61 


THE    INDIAN   AND   OUT-OF-DOOR   LIFE 

It  floats  upon  the  limpid  air  in  rainbow  clouds  of  mist, 
It  rip})les  throu^di  the  glowing'  skies  in  pearl  and  amethyst. 
It  gleams  in  every  burnished  pool,  it  riots  through  the  grass. 
It  splashes  waves  of  glory  on  the  shadows  as  they  pass. 

It  steals  among  the  nodding  trees  and  to  the  forest  croons, 

In  airy  note  and  gentle  voice,  'neath  waning  plenilunes; 

It  calls,  and  lo!   the  wooded  brakes,  the  hills  and  tangled  fens  — 

A  world  of  life  and  mystery  —  swarm  with  its  denizens. 

It  treml)l(\s  in  the  perfumed  breeze,  and  where  its  ardor  runs, 
A  thousand  light-winged  choristers  pant  forth  their  orisons; 
A  thousand  echoes  clap  their  hands,  and  from  their  dewy  beds, 
A  million  scarlet-throated  flowers  peer  forth  with  startled  heads. 

Oh,  the  beauty  of  the  morning !     It  rains  upon  our  ears : 

The  music  of  the  universe,  the  chiming  of  the  spheres; 

From  cloistered  wood  and  leafy  vale,  its  tuneful  medleys  throng. 

Till  all  the  earth  is  drenched  in  light  and  all  the  world  in  song! 


INDIAN    BASKET,   SHOWING   INFLUENCE   OF   NATURE   IN   THE    DESIGN. 

m 


THE   INDIAN   AND   OUT-OF-DOOR   LIFE 

All  children,  and  especially  city  children,  need  out- 
of-door  life.  Men  and  women  need  it  too,  sadly,  but 
if  the  elders  cannot  have  it,  owing  to  our  perverted 
social  conditions,  our  law-givers  should  see  to  it  that 
the  children  do  better.  It  is  a  well-known  fact  that 
cities  would  soon  die  out  if  their  vast  populations  were 
not  constantly  being  replenished  by  the  sons  and 
daughters  of  the  country.  So  instead  of  letting  our 
city  children  grow  up  to  imperfect  manhood,  let  us 
find  some  way  to  get  them  out  of  doors  and  out  into 
the  country  more  and  more.  Exercise  in  the  open, 
where  pure  air  penetrates  to  the  full  depths  of  the 
lungs,  personal  contact  with  the  soil,  and  physical 
work  upon  it,  as  well  as  personal  contact  with  the 
trees  and  flowers  and  all  growing  things,  the  animals 
of  the  farm  and  field,  the  rocks  and  mountains,  the 
hills  and  valleys,  the  waterfalls  and  streams,  the  deserts 
and  canyons;  all  these  are  to  be  desired.  Who  does 
not  wish   to   sing   with   Edwin   Markham: 

"  I  ride  on  the  mountain  tops,  I  ride, 
I  have  found  my  life  and  am  satisfied  ! ' ' 

Of  course  this  out-in-the-country  life  for  city  chil- 
dren can  only  be  gained  if  their  parents  and  our  edu- 
cators and  politicians  combine  to  provide  it.  And  in 
some  way  it  ought  to  be  done.  What  a  joy  it  would 
be  to  many  a  city  boy  to  be  allowed  to  go  and  do  some 
v/ork  in  the  country  during  certain  times  in  the  year! 
Those  who  have  seen  the  city  children  who  are  taken 
yearly  into  the  country  by  Fresh  Air  Funds,  or  out 
by  vessel  into  the  Bay  of  New  York  or  Boston  Harbor, 
by  philanthropic  people,  know^  what  delight,  joy,  and 
health  they  receive  from  the  outing.  These  things  all 
point  to  the  great,  the  dire,  the  awful  need  there  is  for 

63 


THE   INDIAN   AND   OUT-OF-DOOR   LIFE 


some  way  of  giving  to  our  city  children  and  men  and 
women  more  ont-door  life. 

Just  after  the  San  Francisco  earthquake,  Dr.  J.  H, 
KelloiTir,  editor  of  Good  Health,  wrote  in  his  forceful 
way  of  some  lessons  the  people  might  learn  from  that 

disaster.  Here  is 
one  of  them  bear- 
ing upon  this  very 
question : 

"Three  hun- 
dred thousand 
people  have  found 
out  that  they  can 
live  out  of  doors, 
and  that  out  of 
doors  is  a  safer 
place  than  indoors. 
"People  who 
have  all  their  lives 
slept  on  beds  of 
down,  protected 
by  thick  walls  of 
1)  r  i  c  k  or  stone, 
barricaded  against 
the  dangerous  ( ?) 
air  of  night,  have 
found  that  it  is  possible  to  spend  a  night  upon  an 
unsheltered  hillside  without  risk  to  life,  and  it  is  more 
than  likely  that,  as  in  the  case  of  the  Charleston  earth- 
quake, not  a  few  modern  troglodytes,  who  scarcely 
ever  saw  the  light  of  day  before,  have  been  actually 
benefited  by  being  forced  out  into  the  fresh  air  and 
the   sunshine. 

"The  great  tent  colonies,  improvised  by  the  military 

64 


MONO    INDIAN    COOKING    CORN    MUSH    IN    A 
BASKET    BY    A    CAMP    FIRE. 


THE  INDIAN  AND  OUT-OF-DOOR  LIFE 

authorities  with  such  promptness:  under  the  effident 
management  of  the  ahle  General  Funston,  may  become 
the  permanent  homes  for  some  of  the  thousands  who 
are  now  for  the  first  time  in  their  hves  tasting  the 
sweets  of  an  out-of-door  life.  Man  is  an  out-of-door 
creature,  meant  to  live  amid  umbrageous  freshness, 
his  skin  bathed  clean  by  morning  dews  or  evening 
showers,  browned  and  disinfected  by  the  sun,  fed  by 
tropic  finiits,  and  cheered  by  tropic  birds  and  flowers. 
It  is  only  through  long  generations  of  living  under 
artificial  conditions  that  civilized  man  has  become 
accustomed  to  the  unhealthful  and  disease-producing 
influences  of  the  modern  house  to  such  a  degree  that 
they  can  be  even  in  a  small  measure  tolerated.  But 
this  immunity  is  only  apparent.  An  atmosphere  that 
will  Idll  a  Hottentot  or  a  baboon  in  six  months  will 
also  kill  a  bank  president  or  a  trust  magnate  —  some- 
time. And  if  these  tent-dwellers  get  such  a  taste  of  the 
substantial  advantages  of  the  out-of-door  life  that 
they  refuse  to  return  to  the  old  unwholesome  condi- 
tions of  anti-earthquake  daj^s,  they  will  profit  substan- 
tially by  their  experience,  terrible  though  it  has  been. 
It  takes  earthquakes  and  cyclones  and  tidal  waves  to 
jostle  us  out  of  the  unnatural  and  degenerative  ruts 
into  which  conventionality  is  always  driving  us. 

"What  advantages  has  the  man  in  the  brown-stone 
front  over  the  man  in  the  tent?  Only  these:  A  pale 
face  instead  of  the  brown  skin  which  is  natural  to  his 
species ;  a  coated  tongue,  no  appetite,  and  no  digestion, 
instead  of  the  keen  zest  for  food  and  splendid  digestive 
vigor  of  the  tent-dweller;  an  aching  head  and  confused 
mind  and  depressed  spirits,  instead  of  the  vim  and 
snap  and  energy,  mental  and  physical,  and  the  freedom 
from    pain    and    pessimism    of    out-of-door    dwellers; 

65 


TllK   INDIAN   AND   OUT-OF-DOOR   LIFE 

early  consiimptioii  or  apoplexy  or  paresis  or  cancer  of 
the  stomach  or  arteriosclerosis,  —  the  dry  rot  of  the 
body  which  stealthily  weakens  the  props  and  crumbles 
the  foundations  of  the  citadel  of  life." 

Why  is  it  that  in  our  cities  in  summer,  and  in 
P'lorida  and  the  South  generally,  and  in  the  West, 
we  do  not  follow  the  French  custom  of  eating  out  of 
doors  ? 

American  visitors  to  Paris  in  the  summer  time  have 
always  been  impressed  by  the  prevalent  custom  there 
of  dining  out  of  doors.  The  sidewalks  in  front  of  cafes 
and  restaurants  are  always  so  occupied  with  chairs  and 
tables  that  pedestrians  often  have  to  step  into  the  street 
to  get  by.  This  has  long  been  the  summer  custom  in 
Paris,  but  with  the  arrival  of  cold  weather  tables  and 
chairs  disap})eared  every  year,  and  the  diners  returned 
to  the  close  nicotine-laden  air  of  the  stuffy  little  dining- 
rooms  inside.  But  last  year,  according  to  the  London 
correspondent  of  the  Outlook,  an  enterprising  French- 
man, finding  his  patrons  much  attached  to  his  open-air 
dining-room,  and  being  short  of  room  inside,  under- 
took to  make  his  guests  comfortable  out  of  doors  by 
means  of  a  large  brazier  placed  upon  the  sidewalk. 
Others  followed  his  example,  and  in  a  short  time  the 
streets  were  lined  with  braziers  from  the  Madeline  to 
the  Bastile,  much  to  the  satisfaction  of  the  cab-drivers 
and  newsboys.  One  ingenious  proprietor  made  his 
table-legs  hollow,  filled  with  hot  water,  and  thus 
utilized  them  as  foot-warmers.  And  so  one  may  now 
enjoy  a  fashionable  Parisian  cafe  au  pleiii  air  any  day 
in  the  year. 

Every])ody  is  always  hungry  at  a  picnic,  not  simply 
because  of  the  unusual  exercise,  but  as  the  result  of  the 
tonic  appetite-stimulating  influence  of  the  out-of-doors. 

66 


THE   INDIAN   AND    OUT-OF-DOOR   LIFE 

The  same  plan  may  be  introduced  into  any  private 
home  by  utihzing  a  back  porch,  or,  when  this  is  lack- 
ing, a  tent-cloth  awning  may  be  provided  at  the 
expense  of  a  few  dollars. 

The  old  Spanish  patio,  or  inner  court,  provided 
the  seclusion  that  many  desire,  with  the  possibility  of  a 
larger  out-of-door  life.  Mr.  Gustav  Stickley,  the  far- 
seeing  editor  of  TJie  Craftsman,  which  so  effectually 
pleads  for  a  simpler  and  more  democratic  life  for  the 
people,  has  planned  a  number  of  CraftsTtian  houses 
in  which  these  open  porches  for  eating,  and  sleeping 
as  well,  are  introduced.  This  is  a  great  step  in  the 
right  direction,  and  is  strongly  to  be  commended. 

But  the  outdoor  life  is  larger  than  houses  and 
porches.  One  must  get  away  from  all  houses  to  really 
feel  and  know  the  joy  of  the  great  out-of-doors.  Every 
teacher  and  orator  should  know  the  birds  and  trees, 
the  flowers  and  grasses,  the  rocks  and  stars,  the  clouds 
and  odors,  at  first  hand.  He  should  not  depend  upon 
books  at  all  for  any  of  this  knowledge,  save  as  guides  to 
obtain  it.  Instead  of  reading  books  he  should  read 
Nature.  See  how  powerful  is  the  simple  oratory  of 
the  Indian,  whose  figures  and  similes  and  illustrations 
and  metaphors  are  of  those  things  in  Nature  with 
which  he  is  perfectly  familiar. 

Another  efl^ect  upon  the  mind  and  soul  as  the  result 
of  this  outdoor  life  is  remarkable  to  those  who  have 
never  given  it  a  thought.  One  of  our  poets  once  said, 
"The  undevout  astronomer  is  mad."  And  every 
Indian  will  tell  you  that  the  undevout  Indian  is  either 
mad  or  "getting  civilized."  One  of  our  California 
historians  once  wrote  something  to  the  effect  that  the 
California  Indian  had  no  religion,  no  mythology,  no 
reverence,  no  belief  in  anything  outside  of  and  beyond 

67 


THE   INDIAN   x\ND   OUT-OF-DOOR   LIFE 

himself.  Jeremiali  Curtin,  a  careful  and  close  student 
of  the  California  Indian  for  many  years,  in  his  wonder- 
fully interesting  book,  "Creation  ^lyths  of  Primitive 
America,"  shows  the  utter  fallacy  of  this  idea.  He 
says:  "Primitive  man  in  America  stood  at  every 
step  face  to  face  with  divinity  as  he  knew  or  understood 
it.  He  could  never  escape  from  the  ])resence  of  those 
powers  which  had  constituted  the  first  world,  and 
which  composed  all  that  there  was  in  the  present  one. 
....  The  most  important  question  of  all  in  Indian 
life  was  communication  with  divinity,  intercourse 
with  the  spirits  of  divine  personages."  Indeed,  the 
Indian  sees  the  divine  power  in  everything.  His  God 
speaks  in  the  storm,  the  howling  wind,  the  tornado, 
the  hurricane,  the  roaring  rapids  and  dashing  cataracts 
of  the  rivers,  the  never-ending  rise  and  fall  of  the 
ocean,  the  towering  mountains  and  the  tiny  hills, 
the  trees,  the  bees,  the  buds  and  blossoms.  It  is  God 
in  the  flower  that  makes  it  grow  and  gives  it  its  odor; 
that  makes  the  tree  from  the  acorn;  that  makes  the 
sun  to  shine;  that  sends  the  rain  and  dew"  and  the  gen- 
tle zephyrs.  The  thunder  is  His  voice,  and  everything 
in  Nature  is  an  expression  of  His  thought. 

This  belief  compels  the  Indian  to  a  close  study  of 
Nature.  Hence  tine  keenness  of  his  powers  of  observa- 
tion. He  knows  every  plant,  and  when  and  where 
it  best  grows.  He  knows  the  track  of  every  bird,  insect 
reptile,  and  animal.  He  knoW'S  all  the  signs  of  the 
weather.  He  is  a  past-master  in  woodcraft,  and 
knows  more  of  the  habits  of  plants  and  animal  life 
than  all  of  our  trained  naturalists  put  together.  He 
is  a  poet,  too,  withal,  and  an  orator,  using  the  knowl- 
edge he  has  of  nature  in  his  thought  and  sj^eech.  No 
writer  that  ever  lived  knew  the  real  Indian  so  well  as 

68 


THE   INDIAN   AND   OUT-OF-DOOR   LIFE 

Fenimore  Cooper,  and  we  all  know  the  dignified 
and  poetical  speech  of  his  Indian  characters.  I  know 
scores  and  hundreds  of  dusky-skinned  Henry  D. 
Thoreaus  and  John  Burroughses,  John  Muirs  and 
Elizabeth  Grinnells  and  Olive  Thorne  Millers.  Indeed, 
to  get  an  Indian  once  started  upon  his  lore  of  plant, 
tree,  insect,  bird,  or  animal,  is  to  open  up  a  flood-gate 
which  will  deluge  any  but  the  one  who  knows  what  to 
expect. 


69 


CHArTER  V 
THE  INDIAN  AND  SLEEPING  OUT  OF  DOORS 


S  I  have   already  intimated,   the   Indian    is   prac 
tically  an  oiit-of-door  sleeper.     I  say  "  practically,' 
for    there    are    exceptions    to    the   general    rule.     The 


A^ 


.Cz 


TERRACED    HOUSES   OF   THE    HOPIS,   ALLOWING    SLEEPING   OUT   OF    DOORS. 

Hopis  of  northern  Arizona  have  houses.  In  the 
cold  winter  months  they  sleep  indoors  whenever 
they  can.  The  Navahos,  Apaches,  Havasupais,  and 
other   tribes   have   their    "hogans"    and    "hawas"    in 

7C 


INDIAN  AND   SLEEPING   OUT   OF  DOORS 

which  they  sleep  in  the  very  cold  weather.  But  in 
the  summer  the  invariable  rule  is  for  all  to  sleep  out 
of  doors.  And  even  in  the  winter,  if  duty  calls  them 
away  from  home  and  they  have  to  camp  out,  they 
sleep  in  the  cold,  on  the  snow,  in  the  rain,  as  uncon- 
cerned for  their  health  as  if  they  were  well  protected 
indoors.  It  is  this  latter  feature  that  so  much  com- 
mends itself  to  me.  It  is  just  as  natural  to  them  to 
have  to  sleep  out  of  doors  as  it  is  to  sleep  indoors. 
They  think  no  more  of  it,  do  not  regard  it  as  an  un- 
usual and  dangerous  experience,  or  one  to  be  dreaded. 
They  accept  it  without  a  murmur  or  complaint,  and 
without  fear.  This  is  an  attitude  of  mind  that  I  would 
the  white  race  would  learn  from  the  Indian.  I  once 
had  a  friend,  a  city-bred  man,  born  and  brought  up 
in  New  York,  sent  west  to  me  by  his  physician  because 
he  had  had  two  or  three  hemorrhages,  whom  I  took 
out  into  Arizona.  The  first  night  we  had  to  sleep  out 
was  very  cold,  for  it  was  early  in  the  year,  and  at  that 
high  altitude  the  thermometer  sank  very  rapidly  after 
the  sun  went  down.  Yet  I  deliberately  called  camp 
by  the  side  of  a  great  snowbank.  The  fearful  invalid 
wanted  to  know  what  I  was  stopping  there  for.  I  told 
him  it  was  to  afford  him  a  good  sleeping  place  on 
the  snow.  He  expressed  his  dread,  and  assured  me 
that  such  an  experience  would  kill  him  at  once.  I 
told  him  that  if  it  did  I  would  see  that  he  was  decently 
buried,  but  that  did  not  seem  to  dissipate  his  fears. 
After  a  good  camp-fire  was  built,  and  he  had  had  a  warm 
and  comforting  supper,  and  his  blankets  were  stretched 
out  on  the  snow,  and  he  was  undressed  and  well 
wrapped  up,  with  a  hot  rock  at  his  feet  and  the  cheery 
blaze  lighting  up  the  scene,  he  felt  less  alarmed.  I 
talked  him  to  sleep,  and  when  he  awoke  in  the  morn- 

71 


INDIAN   AND   SLEEPING   OUT   OF    DOORS 

ins  it  was  to  confess  tliat  his  throat  and  hin^^s  felt 
more  comfortable  than  they  had  done  for  many  long 
months.  A  month  of  this  open-air  sleeping  gave  him 
new  ideas  on  the  subject,  and  sent  him  back  east  to  fit 
u])  a  cam])  in  the  Adirondacks,  where  he  could  get  a 


BOSTON    MILLIONAIRES    SLEEPING    OUT    OF    DOORS    ON    THE    SANDS    OF 
THE    COLORADO    RIVER. 

great  deal  of  outdoor  life,  and  sleeping  with  doors  and 
windows  wide  open. 

The  outdoor  treatment  for  tuberculosis  is  now 
almost  universal.  Here  is  what  one  eminent  authority 
says  on  the  subject: 

"Tuberculosis  is  a  direct  result  of  over-work, 
either  mental  or  physical,  and  rest  is  largely  its  cure. 

72. 


INDIAN   AND   SLEEPING   OUT   OF   DOORS 

This  life  in  the  open  air  is  best  carried  out  in  a  sitting 
or  semi-recHning  posture.  Every  hour  of  the  day  in  all 
seasons  of  the  year  and  in  all  kinds  of  weather  should 
thus  be  spent,  together  with  sleeping  in  a  tent,  protected 
veranda,  or  in  a  house  with  windows  wide  open.  It 
will  be  found  that  the  colder  the  weather,  the  more 
marked  and  permanent  the  results.  One  does  not 
need  to  be  uncomfortable;  one  can  be  well  wrapped 
with  heavy  blankets.  It  is  the  inhalation  of  cold  air 
that  is  so  effectual  in  stimulating  appetite,  as  a  general 
tonic  and  fever  reducer.  A  consumptive  should  have 
for  his  motto:  'Every  hour  in  the  closed  house  is  an 
hour  lost.'     There  is  no  excuse  for  losing  time." 

But  it  is  not  for  those  who  are  in  ill  health  alone 
that  I  would  commend  out-of-door  sleeping.  Those 
who  are  healthy  need  to  be  kept  in  health,  and  there 
is  a  vim,  a  vigor,  a  physical  joy,  comes  from  this  habit 
that  I  would  that  every  child,  young  man  and  woman, 
and  adult  in  the  land  might  enjoy.  Here  is  what  one 
intelligent  writer,  Mary  Heath,  has  recently  said  upon 
this  subject,  and  her  words  I  most  heartily  indorse: 

"The  success  of  any  scheme  for  human  betterment, 
morally,  mentally,  or  physically,  depends  upon  secur- 
ing human  co-operation  by  convincing  the  intellect  of 
the  truth  or  falsity  of  any  widespread  belief.  The 
almost  universal  notion  that  night  air  is  dangerous  has 
predisposed,  more  than  any  other  one  cause,  to  the 
shutting  of  every  door  and  window  at  sunset  to  keep 
out  malaria.  Notwithstanding  the  fact  that  all  air 
analyses  show  that  outdoor  night  air  is  much  purer 
than  day  air,  the  old  fear  of  night  air  still  retnains, 
and  is  responsible  for  much  infection  from  foul  air, 
because  outdoor  and  indoor  workers  in  summer  and 
winter  —  all  alike  —  spend  their  sleeping  hours  in  ill- 

73 


INDIAN   AND  SLEEPING    OUT  OF  DOORS 

ventilated  bedrooms.  xVfter  false  ideas  about  the 
harmfulness  of  fresh  air  are  eradicated,  plans  should 
be  devised  and  utilized  for  arranging  outdoor  sleeping 
apartments;  plans  should  also  be  devised  for  keeping 
the  body  warm  in  cold  weather  without  an  over-amount 
of  bedclothing;  and  for  the  health  and  convenience  of 
the  millions  of  middle  class  and  more  or  less  humble 
domestic  home  workers,  provisions  should  be  made 
for  doing  the  housework  as  much  as  possible  out  of 
doors,  away  from  the  kitchen  heat  and  odors  of  cook- 
ing food.  Out-of-door  recreation  for  the  family  should 
also  be  provided  for.  Could  all  sedentary  workers 
spend  the  seven  to  nine  hours  of  sleep  in  a  clean,  out- 
door atmosphere,  many  of  the  evil  effects  of  indoor 
sedentary  work  w  ould  be  neutralized.  The  shop,  office, 
or  factory  employe,  after  sleeping  in  the  pure  night  air, 
would  awake  invigorated  for  the  day's  demands  and 
duties.  Beginning  the  day  aright,  with  a  keen  normal 
appetite  for  healthful  food,  he  would  be  able  to  utilize 
his  working  energies  without  either  structural  damage 
to  the  tissues,  or  intellectual  or  moral  degradation." 

Elbert  Hubbard,  of  Roycroft  fame,  has  converted 
all  the  sleeping-rooms  of  his  phalanstery  into  out- 
door rooms,  where  fresh,  pure  air  is  breathed.  Dr. 
Kellogg,  editor  of  Good  Health,  sleeps  out  of  doors  all 
the  time,  and  all  his  large  family  of  adopted  children 
have  rooms  which  practically  contain  no  doors  or 
windows,  so  that  they  sleep  as  near  the  open  air  as 
civilization  will  allow. 

For  years,  as  far  as  was  possible,  I  have  slept  out 
of  doors.  When  at  home  my  bed  is  on  an  open  porch, 
my  face  turned  to  the  stars,  the  waving  of  j^lum,  peach, 
and  fig  trees  making  music  while  I  sleep,  the  beautiful 
lights  of  earliest  dawn  cheering  my  eyes  before  I  arise, 

V4 


INDIAN   AND   SLEEPING   OUT   OF   DOORS 

and  the  twittering  and  singing  of  the  birds  putting 
melodies  into  my  soul  as  I  dress.  When  I  am  in  the 
wilds  exploring,  I  sleep  out  of  doors  always,  when 
and  where  I  can.  Those  who  have  read  my  various 
books  know  of  my  experiences  of  sleeping  in  storms, 
during  heavy  rains,  without  bedding  in  rocky  washes, 
in  leaky  boats  and  the  rain  pouring  upon  us,  in  the 
heat  of  the  desert,  and  the  cold  of  the  snowy  plateaus 
of  Arizona.  Yet  I  do  not  remember  that  I  ever  once 
"took  cold,"  though  I  have  been  wet  through  many  a 
night.  On  the  other  hand,  I  never  visit  civilization, 
especially  the  proud,  haughty,  conceited  civilization 
of  the  East,  where  houses  are  steam-heated,  and  street 
and  railway  cars  are  superheated,  without  taking 
severe  colds  and  suffering  much  misery. 

Those  who  have  heard  Nansen  and  Peary  and 
other  arctic  explorers  will  remember  that  they  had 
the  same  experience.  Is  it  not  apparent,  therefore, 
that  the  outdoor  life  is  the  normal,  the  healthful,  the 
rational,  the  natural  life,  while  that  of  the  steam- 
heated  house  is  abnormal,  unhealthful,  irrational,  and 
unnatural  ? 

People  often  say:  But  I  see  that  my  house  is  well 
ventilated,  and  therefore  the  air  is  as  pure  and  good 
as  it  is  out  of  doors.  In  reply,  permit  me  to  say  that 
no  house  can  ever  be  well  ventilated.  Air  to  be  pure 
and  wholesome  must  be  alive.  It  can  only  live  when 
free  and  uncontained.  and  in  contact  with  the  direct 
rays  of  the  sun  during  the  day.  Every  thoughtful 
person  has  noticed  the  great  difference  there  is  between 
outdoor  air  and  indoor  air,  on  stepping  from  outside 
inside,  even  through  all  the  doors  and  windows  of  the 
room  were  wide  open.  There  is  a  vast  difference 
between  indoor  and  outdoor  air,  even  under  the  best 

75 


INDIAN   AND   SLEEPING   Ol  T   OF   DOORS 

of  conditions ;  so  ^ct  into  the  open  all  yon  can,  day  or 
night,  winter  or  snninicr,  wet  or  dry. 

One  of  the  finest  and  strongest  j)oems  in  the  language 
is  the  following,  by  Richard  Burton: 

GODS  (iirr,  THE  air 

Now,  is  tliere  anything  tliat  freer  seems 
Than  air,  the  fresh,  the  vital,  that  a  man 

Draws  in  with  l)reathings  hountiful,  nor  dreams 
Of  any  better  l)hss,  ))eeause  he  ean 

Make  over  all  his  l)loo(l  thereby,  and  feel 

Once  more  his  youth  return,  his  muscles  steel. 
And  life  grow  buoyant,  part  of  God's  good  plan! 

Oh,  how  on  plain  and  mountain,  and  by  streams 
That  shine  along  their  path;   o'er  many  a  field 

Proud  with  pied  flowers,  or  where  sunrise  gleams 
In  spangled  splendors,  does  the  rich  air  yield 

Its  balsam;  yea,  how  hunter,  pioneer. 

Lover,  and  bard  have  felt  that  heaven  Avas  near 
Because  the  air  their  spirit  touched  and  healed  I 

And  yet  —  God  of  the  open !  —  look  and  see 

The  millions  of  thy  creatures  pent  within 
Close  places  that  are  foul  for  one  clean  breath, 
Thrilling  with  health,  and  hope,  and  purity; 

Nature's  vast  antidote  for  stain  and  sin. 
Life's  sweetest  medicine  this  side  of  death! 
How  comes  it  that  this  largess  of  the  sky 
Thy  children  lack  of,  till  they  droop  and  die  r 

Many  white  people  go  out  tenting  in  the  summer 
and  think  they  are  sleeping  out  of  doors.  What  a 
foolish  error.  Here  is  what  a  scientific  authority  says 
upon    the    subject: 

"Are  you  tenting.^     If  so,  you  should  know: 

"That  a  well-closed  tent  is  nearly  air-tight,  and 
consequently, — 

"  That  in  an  ordinary-sized  tent,  one  occupant  will 

76 


INDIAN  AND   SLEEPING   OUT   OF  DOORS 


_^^mF^ 

fc 

^^B 

1 

^^^ 

'--  .'S*'- 

i  ' 

p$ 

:is^^^ 

_^|Mi 

mr^ 

A    CHEAIEHIKM    INDIAN    AND    HIS    OUT-OF-DOOR    SHELTER    FROM 

THE    SUN. 

SO  pollute  the  air  as  to  render  it  unfit  to  breathe  in  less 
than  twenty  minutes;  two  occupants,  in  less  than  ten 
minutes. 

"That  if  you  are  tenting  for  your  health,  an  open- 
ing at  each  end  of  the  tent  must  be  provided  for 
ventilation  at  night.  The  openings  should  be  at  least 
a  foot  square  for  each  occupant. 

"  Breathing  impure  air  lowers  the  vitality,  and  con- 
sequently renders  one  susceptible  to  colds  and  other 
diseased  conditions." 


T7 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE    INDIAN   AS   A   WALKER,    RIDER,  AND 
CLIMBER 

A  S  a  part  of  his  out-of-door  life  the  Indian  is  a 
-^^-  great  walker  and  runner,  having  horses  he  is  a 
great  rider,  and  living  in  a  mountainous  or  canyon 
region  he  is  a  great  climber.  The  Indian  walks 
through  necessity,  and  also  through  delight  and  joy. 
He  knows  to  the  full  "the  joy  of  mere  living."  A  few 
miles'  walk,  more  or  less,  is  nothing  to  him,  and  he 
does  it  so  easily  that  one  can  see  he  enjoys  it.  In  one 
of  my  books  *  I  tell  the  story  of  the  running  powers  of 
the  Hopi  Indians  of  northern  Arizona.  It  is  worth 
quoting  here: 

"  It  is  no  uncommon  thing  for  an  Oraibi  or  Mashon- 
ganavi  to  run  from  his  home  to  Moenkopi,  a  distance 
of  forty  miles,  over  the  hot  blazing  sands  of  a  real 
American  Sahara,  there  hoe  his  corn-field,  and  return 
to  his  home,  within  twenty-four  hours.  I  once  photo- 
graphed, the  morning  after  his  return,  an  old  man  who 
had  made  this  eighty-mile  run,  and  he  showed  not  the 
slightest  trace  of  fatigue. 

"For  a  dollar  I  have  several  times  engaged  a  young 
man  to  take  a  message  from  Oraibi  to  Ream's  Canyon, 
a  distance  of  seventy-two  miles,  and  he  has  run  on  foot 
the  whole  distance,  delivered  his  message,  and  brought 
me  an  answer  within  thirty-six  hours. 

"One    Oraibi,    Ku-wa-wen-ti-wa,    ran   from    Oraibi 

*The  Indians  of  the  Painted  Desert  Region.  Little,  Brown  &  Co.,  Boston, 
illustrated,  $2.00  net,  20c  postage. 

79 


THE   INDIAN   AS   A   WALKER 

to  Moenkopi,  thence  to  AYalpi,  and  back  to  Oraibi,  a 
distance  of  over  ninety  miles,  in  one  day." 

I  doubt  not  that  most  of  my  readers  suppose  that 
these  experiences  are  rare  and  unusual,  and  come  after 
special  training.  Not  at  all !  They  are  regular  occur- 
rences, made  without  any  thought  that  the  white  man 
was  either  watching  or  recording.  When  asked  for 
the  facts,  the  Indians  gave  them  as  simply  and  as 
unconcernedly  as  we  might  tell  of  a  friend  met  or  a 
dinner  eaten.  And  it  is  not  with  one  tribe  alone.  I 
have  found  the  same  endurance  with  Yumas,  Pimas, 
Apaches,  Navahos,  Havasupais,  Wallapais,  Cheme- 
huevis,  Utes,  Paiutis,  and  Mohaves.  Indeed,  on  the 
trackless  wastes  of  the  Colorado  desert  the  Mohaves 
and  Yumas  perhaps  show  a  greater  endurance  than  any 
people  I  have  ever  seen. 

As  a  horseback-rider  the  Indian  can  teach  many 
things  to  the  wdiite  race.  Among  the  Navahos  and 
Hopis,  the  Havasupais  and  Wallapais,  the  Pimas  and 
Apaches,  most  of  the  children  are  taught  to  ride  at  an 
early  age.  They  can  catch,  bridle,  and  saddle  their 
own  horses  while  they  are  still  "little  tots,"  and  the  way 
they  ride  is  almost  a  marvel.  There  need  be  no  wonder 
at  this,  for  their  mothers  are  as  used  to  horseback- riding 
as  they  are.  INIany  an  Indian  child  has  come  near 
to  being  born  on  horseback.  They  ride  up  and  down 
trails,  over  the  plains  and  up  the  mountains.  They 
go  with  their  parents  gathering  the  seeds  and  pinion 
nuts,  and  are  also  taught  to  handle  their  horses  in  the 
chase.  They  study  "horse-nature,"  and  early  become 
expert  horse-breakers.  While  their  animals  are  bron- 
cos and  wild,  and  therefore  are  never  as  well"  broken" 
as  are  ours,  they  compel  them  to  every  duty,  and  ride 
them  fearlessly  and  constantly. 

80 


THE   INDIAN   AS   A   WALKER 

The  girls  and  women,  too,  ride  almost  as  much  as 
the  boys  and  men,  and  always  astride.  If  anything 
were  needed  to  demonstrate  to  an  Indian  woman  the 
inferiority  of  a  white  woman  it  would  be  that  she  sits 
on  a  side-saddle.  The  utter  unnaturalness  and  folly 
of  such  a  posture  is  so  incomprehensible  to  the  Indian 
mind  that  she  "throws  up  her  hands,"  figuratively 
speaking,  and  gives  up  the  problem  of  solving  the 
peculiar  mentality  of  her  white  sister.  And  I  don't 
wonder!  Thank  God  the  day  is  passing  when  women 
are  ashamed  of  having  legs,  or  of  placing  one  of  them 
on  one  side  and  the  other  on  the  other  side  of  a  horse. 
Common  sense  and  comfort  will  ultimately  prevail, 
and  place  the  most  modest,  refined,  cultured,  and 
womenly  women  upon  the  backs  of  their  horses  cava- 
lier fashion,  dressed  in  trousers.  The  idea  that  men 
should  dictate  to  women  what  they  should  do  to  be 
womanly  is  so  absurd  as  to  make  even  fools  laugh. 
What  does  a  man  know  as  to  what  is  womanly  ?  Women 
alone  can  determine  that  question,  just  as  men  alone 
must  determine  what  is  manly.  So  I  am  satisfied  that 
I  shall  live  to  see  womenly  women  —  the  best  the  world 
has  —  reasonably  natural  in  their  dress  on  horseback, 
and  riding  as  the  Creator  evidently  intended  them  to 
do. 

If  girls  as  well  as  boys  of  the  white  race  were  to 
ride  horseback  more,  much  disease  would  flee  away. 
Liver  and  stomach  troubles  are  shaken  out  of  existence 
on  horseback;  the  blue  devils  and  constipation  are 
almost  an  impossibility,  and  the  exhilaration  of  the 
swift  motion  and  the  vivifying  influence  of  the  deeper 
breathing,  the  shaking  up  of  the  muscles  and  nerves, 
the  quickening  efl^ect  of  the  accelerated  heart  action, 
and  the  readier  circulation   of  well-oxygenated   blood 

81 


THE  INDIAN  AS  A   WALKER 


A   ZUNI    INDIAN    WITH    A    JAR    OF    WATER 
UPON    HER    HEAD. 

82 


make  tlie  wliole  body 
a-tingle  with  a  new- 
ness of  life  that  is 
glorious.  If  I  were 
well  to  do  and  had  a 
score  of  children  their 
chief  education 
should  be  out  of 
doors,  and  rain  or 
shine,  storm  or  calm, 
snow  or  sleet,  winter 
or  summer,  boys  and 
girls  alike  should  ride 
horseback  ten  to 
twenty  miles  or  more 
each  day. 

Nor  should  this 
do  away  with  daily 
walking.  Walking  is 
a  fine  offset  to  riding. 
One  needs  to  walk  a 
good  deal  to  enjoy 
riding  a  good  deal. 
One  is  a  necessary 
complement  to  the 
other.  One  exercise 
uses  muscles  that  are 
little  called  upon  by 
the  other.  So  I 
would  make  good 
walkers,  in  all  weath- 
ers, of  all  boys,  girls, 
men,  and  women  of 
the  white  race,  even 


THE   INDIAN   AS   A   WALKER 

as  are  those  of  the  Indian  race.  In  order  to  be  good 
walkers  the  Indians  have  naturally  found  the  most  per- 
fect and  natural  attitude  for  walking.  Every  Indian 
walks  upright,  his  abdomen  in,  chest  up,  chin  down, 
and  spinal  column  easily  carrying  his  body  and  arms. 
The  white  race  may  well  learn  from  the  Indian  how 
to  keep  the  spinal  column  upright,  how  to  have  a 
graceful  carriage  in  walking,  and  how  to  cure  stooped 
shoulders.  With  all  younger  women  and  men  of  ail 
ages  among  the  Indians  a  curved  spine,  ungraceful 
walk,  and  stooped  shoulders  are  practically  unknown. 
The  women  produce  this  result  by  carrying  burdens 
upon  their  heads. 

Yes,  and  the  boys  and  men  as  well  carry  burdens 
also  upon  the  head,  though  not  as  much  as  the  women. 
Burden  carrying  upon  the  head  is  a  good  thing.  As 
one   writer   has   well   said: 

"Most  of  us  are  accustomed  to  regard  the  head  as  a 
mere  thinking  machine,  unconscious  of  the  fact  thai 
this  bony  superstructure  seems  to  have  been  specially 
adapted  by  Nature  to  the  carrying  of  heavy  weights. 

"The  arms  are  usually  considered  as  the  means 
intended  for  the  bearing  of  burdens,  but  the  effect  of 
carrying  heavy  articles  in  the  hands  or  on  the  arms  is 
very  injurious,  and  altogether  destructive  of  an  erect 
or  graceful  carriage.  The  shoulders  are  dragged 
forward,  the  back  loses  its  natural  curve,  the  lungs  are 
compressed,  and  internal  organs  displaced. 

"When  the  head  bears  the  weight  of  the  burden,  as 
it  is  made  to  do  among  the  peasant  women  of  Italy, 
Mexico,  and  Spain,  and  the  people  of  the  Far  East,  there 
is  great  gain  in  both  health  and  beauty.  The  muscles 
of  the  neck  are  strengthened,  the  spine  held  erect,  the 
chest  raised  and   expanded,  so  that  breathing  is  full 

83 


THE   INDIAN   AS   A   WALKER 

and   (loop,   and   tlio  sliouldors  aro  liold   ])ack  in   tlioir 
natural  ])osition. 

"It  is  a  good   tiling  for  children  to  be  early  accus- 
tomed  to  the  carrying  of   various   articles,   gradually 


A    YOKUT    INDIAN    WITH    A    WHEELBARROW    LOAD    OP    PEACHES    AND 

FIGS.      THE    CARRYING    BASKET   IS    SUSPENDED    BY    A    BROAD 

BAND    OVER   THE    FOREHEAD. 

increasing  in  weight,  balanced  upon  the  head.  In  this 
way  they  may  acquire  an  erect  carriage,  and  free  and 
graceful  walk." 

84 


THE   INDIAN   AS   A   WALKER 

The  Indian  man  and  woman  will  pick  up  an  olla 
of  water,  containing  a  gallon  or  more,  and  swinging  it 
easily  to  the  top  of  the  head  will  walk  along  with  hands 
by  their  sides,  as  unconcernedly  as  if  they  carried  no 
fragile  bowl  balanced  and  ready  to  fall  at  the  slightest 
provocation.  And  they  will  climb  up  steep  and  diffi- 
cult trails,  still  balancing  the  jar  upon  the  head.  The 
effect  of  this  is  to  compel  a  natural  and  dignified  car- 
riage. I  know  Navaho,  Hopi,  and  Havasupai  women 
who  walk  with  a  simple  dignity  that  is  not  surpassed 
in  drawing-room  of  president  or  king. 

Then,  too,  another  reason  for  this  dignified,  health- 
fully erect  carriage  is  found  in  the  fact  that  neither 
men  nor  women  wear  high-heeled  shoes.  The  moc- 
casin is  always  flat,  and  therefore  the  foot  of  the  Indian 
rests  firmly  and  securely  upon  the  floor.  No  doubt  if 
the  Indian  woman  wished  to  imitate  the  forward 
motion  of  the  kangaroo,  or  any  other  frivolous  creature, 
she  could  tilt  herself  in  an  unnatural  and  absurd  posi- 
tion by  high-heeled  shoes,  but  in  all  my  twenty-five 
years  of  association  with  them  I  never  found  one  foolish 
enough  to  do  so. 

The  men,  as  well  as  the  women,  gain  this  upright 
attitude  as  the  result  of  "holding  up  their  vital  organs" 
when  they  go  for  their  long  hunting  and  other  tramps. 
It  seems  to  me  that  fully  one-half  the  white  men  (and 
women)  we  meet  on  the  streets  are  suffering  from 
prolapsus  of  the  transverse  colon.  This  is  evidenced 
by  the  projection  of  the  abdomen,  which  generally 
grows  larger  as  they  grow  older;  so  that  we  have 
"tailors  for  fat  men,"  and  special  implements  of  torture 
for  compressing  into  what  we  call  a  decent  shape  the 
embonpoint  of  women.  But,  I  ask,  as  I  see  the  Indians, 
why  do  white  people  have  this  paunch? 

85 


THE   INDIAN   AS   A   WALKER 


An    Indian    with    a   "bay- 
windoAv"  stomach,  a  paunch, 
is  seldom,  if  ever  seen.    Why? 
lie  lias  lon<^  ae^o    learned   the 
art.    the    necessity,    of    keep- 
ing    his    abdominal     muscles 
stretched   tight,      llis  belly  is 
always  held  in.     The  muscles 
across   his  abdomen   are  like 
steel.     The  result  is  the  trans- 
verse colon  is  held  securely  in 
position.     It  has  no  prolapse, 
hence  there  is  no  paunch.     If 
we   taught   ourselves,    as   the 
Indian  does,  to  draw    in  the 
abdomen    and    at    the    same 
time  breathe  long   and  deep, 
this  prolapsus  would  be  prac- 
tically  impossible.     Half    the 
medicine    that  is  sold  to   so- 
called    "kidney  suffer- 
ers"  is  sold  to  people 
/y  A         whose   kidneys   are  no 
more  diseased  than  are 
/  I   those  of  the  man  in  the 
moon.     It  is  the  pulling 
and     tugging     of     the 
falling  colon  that  causes 
the     wearisome    back- 
ache;   and     the    lying 
and  s  c  o  u  n  d  r  e  1  o  u  s 

APACHE    MAIDEN    CARRYING     A     BASKET      WrCtclieSwllO  prCyUpOn 
WATER  OLLA  UPON  HER  HEAD.      FULL        ^|^^     ignOraUt     WritC     OUt 
OF    WATER   THIS    WEIGHS    MANY  ,     ^ 

POUNDS.  their    c  a  t  c  h  -  p  e  n  n  y 

8G 


THE    INDIAN   AS   A   WALKER 

advertisements  describing  these  feelings,  so  that  when 
the  sufferer  picks  up  their  hterature  he  is  as  good  as 
entrapped  for  "a  dozen  or  more  bottles,"  or  until  his 
money  gives  out. 

O  men  and  women  of  America,  learn  to  walk 
upright,  as  God  intended  you  should.  Do  not  become 
"chesty"  by  throwing  out  your  chest,  and  throwing 
your  shoulders  back  at  the  expense  of  your  spine,  but 
pull  in  the  muscles  of  your  abdomen,  fill  your  lungs 
with  air,  then  pull  your  chin  down  and  in,  and  you  will 
soon  have  three  great,  grand,  and  glorious  blessings; 
viz.,  a  dignified,  upright  carriage;  freedom  from  and 
reasonable  assurance  that  you  will  never  have  pro- 
lapsus of  the  transverse  colon  and  its  attendant  miseries 
and  backache;  and  a  lung  capacity  that  will  help  you 
withstand  the  approaches  of  disease  should  you  ever, 
in  some  other  way,  come  under  its  malign  influence. 

When  I  see  white  boys  slouching  and  shambling 
along  the  streets  I  wish  with  a  great  wish  that  I  could 
have  them  put  under  the  training  of  some  of  my  wild 
Indian  friends.  They  would  soon  brace  up;  heads 
would  be  held  erect,  chins  down,  abdomen  in,  chest 
up,  and  with  lips  closed,  and  the  pure  air  of  the  moun- 
tain, canyon,  plain,  desert,  or  forest  entering  their 
lungs  through  the  nostrils ;  the  whole  aspect  of  life 
would  begin  to  change.  For  "nothing  lifts  up  the 
spirits  so  much  as  just  to  lift  the  chest  up.  It  takes  a 
load  off  the  head,  off  the  mind,  off  the  heart.  Raise 
your  chest  so  high  that  the  abdominal  organs  perform 
their  functions  in  a  proper  way.  When  one  is  all 
doubled  over,  the  head  and  spine  are  deprived  of  blood 
that  they  are  entitled  to.  When  the  chest  is  lifted  up, 
the  abdominal  organs  are  compressed,  and  the  blood 
that  has  been  retired  from  the  circulation  and  accu- 

87 


HAVASUPAI    CHILD    WITH    WATER    BOTTLE    SUSPENDED    FROM    THE    FOREHEAD. 


THE   INDIAN   AS   A   WALKER 

mulated  in  the  liver  and  the  stomach  is  forced  back 
into  the  current  where  it  belongs.  The  head  and  spinal 
cord  get  their  proper  supply  of  blood,  and  one  feels 
refreshed  and  energized  immediately." 

But  in  addition  to  their  walking  and  riding  the 
Indians  are  great  climbers  of  steep  canyon  and  moun- 
tain trails.  Men,  women,  and  children  alike  pass  up 
and  down  these  trails  with  almost  the  ease  and  agility 
of  the  goat.  I  have  seen  a  woman  with  a  kathak 
(carrying  basket)  suspended  from  her  forehead  con- 
taining a  load  of  fruit,  of  pine  nuts,  of  grass  seeds, 
weighing  not  less  than  from  50  to  100  lbs.,  her  baby 
perched  on  top  of  the  load,  steadily  and  easily  climb  a 
trail  that  made  me  puff  and  blow  like  a  grampus. 
Few  exercises,  properly  taken,  are  of  greater  benefit  to 
the  lungs  and  heart,  and  indeed,  all  the  vital  organs, 
than  is  trail  or  mountain  climbing.  See  that  your 
clothing  is  easy,  especially  around  the  waist,  for  there 
must  be  room  for  every  effort  of  lung  expansion.  This 
applies  to  men  as  well  as  to  women,  for  the  wretched 
and  injurious  habit  is  growing  among  men  of  wearing 
a  belt  instead  of  suspenders.  If  the  prospective  climber 
is  a  woman,  let  her  wear  a  loose,  light  dress,  and  with 
as  short  a  skirt  as  her  common  sense,  judgment,  and 
conscience  will  allow  her  to  wear.  If  she  is  out  "in 
the  wilds,"  let  her  wear  trousers  and  discard  skirts 
entirely  as  a  senseless  and  barbarous  slavery  to  custom 
and  convention.  Shoes  should  be  easy  and  com- 
fortable, with  thick  soles  and  broad,  low  heels. 

Begin  to  climb  as  early  in  the.  morning  as  possible. 
Don't  try  to  do  too  much  at  first.  Try  a  small  hill. 
Conquer  that  by  degrees.  Get  so  that  you  can  finally 
go  up  and  down  without  any  great  effort.  Then  tackle 
the  higher  hills,  and  finally  try  real  mountains,  eight, 

89 


THE  INDIAN  AS  A  WALKER 

ten,  fourteen  thousand  feet  high.  If  you  are  delicate 
to  begin  with  be  more  careful  still,  and  ask  the  advice 
of  your  physician,  but  don't  be  afraid  so  long  as  you 
do  not  get  fatigued  to  exhaustion.  For  climbing 
develops  the  thighs  and  calves  of  the  leg,  the  muscles 
of  the  back,  enlarges  the  lungs,  makes  the  heart  pump 
more  and  purer  (because  better  oxygenated)  blood 
throughout  the  whole  body,  brings  about  more  rapid 
changes  in  the  material  of  the  body,  and  thus  exchanges 
old  and  useless  tissue  for  new  and  healthy,  dissolves 
and  dissipates  fat,  induces  perspiration  and  exhalations 
through  the  kidneys  that  are  peculiarly  beneficial. 

In  breathing  be  sure  to  keep  the  mouth  closed. 
Insist  upon  nasal  breathing,  and  the  exercise  will  per- 
force make  it  deep  breathing.  The  deeper  you  breathe 
the  more  good  you  will  get  from  it.  Let  the  posture 
be  correct  or  you  will  lose  much  good.  This  is  in 
brief:  pull  the  abdomen  in,  raise  the  chest,  keep  the 
chin  down,  and  let  the  arms  hang  easily  and  naturally 
by  the  side. 

For  years  I  have  compelled  myself  to  seize  every 
possible  opportunity  for  trail  climbing  or  descending. 
Hundreds  of  miles  of  trails  have  I  gone  up  and  down 
in  the  Grand  Canyon  of  Arizona,  often  with  a  thirty, 
forty,  fifty  pound  camera  and  food  supplies  on  my 
back.  I  have  ascended  scores  of  mountains  through- 
out the  Southwest,  and  the  rich  experiences  of  glowing 
health  and  vigor,  vim,  snap,  tingle,  that  come  from 
such  exercises  no  one  can  know  but  those  who  have 
enjoyed  them. 

A  few  weeks  ago  I  came  to  the  Grand  Canyon 
(September,  1907),  after  nearly  a  year  of  rest  from 
physical  labor  on  an  extended  scale  (my  civilized 
occupations  had  pre-empted  all  my  time).     I  started 

91 


THE   INDIAN   AS   A   WALKER 

out  on  the  trail,  up  and  down  Ilavasu  Canyon,  Bass 
Trail  of  the  Grand  Canyon,  and  the  Grand  View  and 
Red  Canyon  trails.  Again  and  again  I  walked  up 
the  steepest  portions  for  a  mile  at  a  time,  setting  the 
pace  for  the  horses  and  mules,  and  it  was  a  source  of 
mental  as  well  as  physical  delight  thatmy  lungs,  heart, 
and  body  generally  were  in  such  good  condition  that 
I  could  do  this  day  after  day  for  two  weeks,  not  only 
without  exhaustion,  but  with  positive  exhilaration  and 
physical  delight. 


92 


CHAPTER   VII 
THE  INDIAN  IN  THE   RAIN  AND   THE   DIRT 

T  TOW  these  "things  we  may  learn  from  the  Indian" 
-*■  ^  grow  upon  us,  as  we  study  the  "  noble  red  man  "  in 
his  own  haunts.  Again  and  again  I  have  noticed  that 
''he  doesnt  knoiv  enough  to  go  in  when  it  rahis.''  The 
white  man  who  first  coined  that  expression  deemed 
it  an  evidence  of  smartness,  and  reared  his  head  more 
proudly  than  his  fellows  because  he  was  the  author  of 
so  bright  an  idea.  Yet  when  you  come  to  consider 
it,  what  a  foolish  proposition  it  is!  Go  in  when  it 
rains  ?  Why  should  you  go  in  ?  Do  the  birds  go  in  ? 
I  have  just  been  w^atching  them  from  my  study  win- 
dow,—  larks,  linnets,  song-sparrows,  and  mocking- 
birds. Not  one  of  them  seems  to  care  a  particle  about 
the  rain,  and  their  songs  are  as  sweet  and  as  cheery 
and  as  full  of  melody  as  they  are  on  the  days  of  brightest 
sunshine.  How  well  I  recall  seeing  a  mocking-bird 
on  a  stand  on  my  lawn  one  day  w^hen  the  rain  was 
pouring  down  fiercely.  He  stood  with  bill  up  and 
tail  dow^n  so  that  he  had  a  very  "Gothic-roof-like" 
appearance,  his  mouth  wide  open,  and  as  the  rain 
poured  from  the  end  of  his  tail  he  sent  out  a  flood  of 
melody  more  rich  and  sweet  than  any  bird-song  I  ever 
heard. 

And  the  horses!  How  they  enjoy  the  rain!  I  have 
seen  them  loose  in  a  stable  having  double  doors,  the 
upper  of  which  was  open,  and  when  it  rained  they 
would  thrust  their  noses  out  into  the  rain  and  let  the 
drippings   of  the  eaves  fall   upon  them  wdth  evident 

93 


IN   THE   RAIN   AND   THE   DIRT 

pleasure  and  longing  that  they  might  get  out  into  it  all 
over. 

Nothing  alive  in  Nature  save  "civilized"  man 
dreads  the  rain.  The  Indian  fairly  revels  in  it.  I 
was  once  at  the  Havasupai  village  for  a  couple  of  weeks, 
the  guest  of  my  friend  Wa-lu-tha-ma.  His  little  girl, 
seven  years  old,  was  a  perfect  little  witch.     She  was 


HEALTHY    XAVAIIO    CIULDHEX    USED    TO    THE    RAIN    AND    THE    OUT    OF 

DOORS. 

94 


IN   THE   RAIN   AND   THE   DIRT 

quick,  nervy,  lively,  and  healthy.  When  it  rained 
and  her  clothes  got  wet  I  tried  to  prevail  upon  her  to 
come  into  shelter.  But  no!  She  wanted  to  be  out  in 
the  rain,  and  off  she  sprang  through  the  door,  playing 
with  the  pools  as  they  collected,  and  running  with 
others  of  her  playmates  to  where  the  extemporized 
waterfalls  dashed  themselves  into  semi-spray  as  they 
fell  from  the  heights  above  upon  the  shelving  rocks. 
Here  they  stood,  in  the  water  and  rain,  like  dusky 
fairies,  laughing  and  shouting,  romping  and  sporting, 
in   perfect   glee. 

The  older  women,  too,  mind  it  but  little,  unless  it  is 
very  cold  or  the  wind  is  blowing.  They  no  more  mind 
being  wet  than  they  do  that  the  wind  should  blow  or 
the  sun  shine,  and  as  for  any  ill  effect  that  either 
children  or  grown-ups  suffer  from  the  wet,  I  have  yet 
to  see  it.  Why  ?  The  reasons  are  clear.  In  the 
first  place,  they  have  no  fear  of  the  rain.  It  is  not  con- 
stantly instilled  into  their  minds  from  childhood  that 
"they  mustn't  get  wet,  or  they'll  take  cold,"  and  girls 
are  not  taught  to  expect  functional  disarrangement 
if  they  "get  their  feet  wet."  This  has  something  to  do 
with  it,  for  the  effect  of  the  mind  upon  the  body  is  far 
more  potent  than  we  yet  know. 

In  the  second  place,  they  move  about  with  natural 
activity  in  the  rain  as  at  other  times.  This  keeps  the 
blood  circulating  and  prevents  any  lowering  of  the 
temperature  of  the  body. 

In  the  third  place,  their  general  out-of-door  life 
gives  them  such  a  robustness  that  if  there  is  any  tax 
upon  the  system  it  is  fully  ready  to  meet  it. 

But  I  am  asked,  "Would  you  advocate  white  peo- 
ple, especially  girls  and  women,  getting  wet?  Think 
of  their  skirts  bedraggled  in  the  rain,  and  how  these 

95 


I 


IN   THE   RAIN   AND   THE   DIRT 

wet  skirts  cling  to  the  ankles  and  make  their  wearers 
uncomfortable. 

I  have  thought  a  great  deal  about  this,  and  am  not 
prepared  to  say  that  with  our  present  costume  I  would 
advocate  women's  going  out  much  in  the  rain.  But 
I  do  say  that  once  in  a  while  they  can  put  on  short 
skirts  and  stout  shoes  and  such  old  clothes  as  cannot 
be  injured  by  getting  wet,  and  then  resolutely  and 
boldly  sally  forth  into  the  rain,  and  the  harder  it  comes 
down  the  better,  if  it  be  warm  weather.  Then  let 
them  learn  to  enjoy  the  pattering  of  the  rain  upon 
cheeks  and  ears.  Let  them  hold  out  their  hands  and 
feel  the  soft  and  gentle  caresses  of  the  "high-born, 
noble  rain."  Let  them  watch  the  drops  as  they  spatter 
on  the  leaves  and  trickle  down  the  stems,  gathering 
volume  and  speed  as  they  reach  the  bole  and  fall  to 
the  ground,  there  to  give  life  and  nourishment  to  the 
whole  plant.  Everything  in  Nature  loves  to  be  out  in 
the  rain.  How  fresh  and  bright  the  trees  look  after  a 
shower!  How  the  rocks  are  cleansed  and  made  bright 
and  shining!  How  their  color  comes  vividly  out  in 
the  rain!  And  upon  human  beings  the  effect  is  the 
same,  provided  they  value  health  and  vigor  more  than 
they  mind  a  little  discomfort  in  the  bedragglement  of 
their  clothes.  Years  ago  I  learned  this  lesson.  I  was 
riding  from  the  line  of  the  railway,  over  the  Painted 
Desert,  with  several  Havasupai  Indians.  It  was  the 
rainy  season.  Showers  fell  half  a  dozen  times  a  day. 
At  first  I  wished  I  had  an  umbrella.  I  got  wet  through, 
and  so  did  the  Indians.  I  thought  I  ought  to  feel 
wretched  and  miserable,  but  somehow  the  Indians  were 
as  bright  and  cheerful  as  ever,  so  I  plucked  up  heart 
and  courage,  and  in  half  an  hour  my  clothes  were  dry 
again.     Four   or   five    times    that   day   and    an   equal 

97 


IN   THE   RAIN   AND   THE   DIRT 

number  tlio  next  day,  I  got  wet  thronfT;li  and  dry  again. 
Riding  liorsebaek  kept  nie  warm,  and  the  (juiek  and 
healthful  circulation  of  the  blood,  the  active  deep 
breathing  caused  by  the  exercise,  the  absence  of  fear 
in  the  soul,  all  combined  to  make  the  wetting  a  benefit 
instead  of  an  injury. 

My  friend  W.  W.  Bass,  of  the  Grand  Canyon  of 
Arizona,  with  whom  I  have  made  many  trips  in  that 
Wonderland  region,  tells  w  ith  great  gusto  a  true  story 
of  my  riding  over  the  desert  on  one  occasion,  clothed  in 
one  of  the  old-fashioned  linen  dusters  that  reached 
below  my  knees.  It  was  warm  weather,  and  dusty  on 
the  railway,  hence  the  duster,  I  suppose.  But  when 
we  got  fairly  out  on  the  desert  it  began  to  rain,  and 
how  it  did  pour!  It  came  down  so  rapidly  that  by  and 
by  my  pockets  w^ere  full  of  water,  and  Bass  says  that 
w^hen  he  overtook  me,  I  was  jogging  along,  singing  at 
the  top  of  my  voice  (just  as  the  mocking-bird  did), 
the  water  splashing  out  of  my  pockets  as  I  bounced 
up  and  down  in  the  saddle.  The  linen  duster  clung 
to  the  sides  and  back  of  the  horse,  and  wrapped  itself 
around  my  legs  so  that  the  picture  was  comical  in  the 
extreme.  But  I  was  happy,  and  refused  to  feel  any 
discomfort,  and  so  got  joy  out  of  the  experience,  as 
well  as  health  and  vigor.  For  let  it  be  remembered 
that  wdien  I  came  from  England,  twenty-five  years  ago, 
I  came  as  an  invalid,  broken  down  in  health  com- 
pletely; so  much  so  that  I  was  even  forbidden  to  read 
a  book  for  a  whole  year.  Now  few  men  are  as  healthy 
as  I.  Years  of  association  with  the  Indian,  learning 
simplicity  and  naturalness  of  him,  have  aided  materi- 
ally in  making  the  change.  I  have  learned  the  value 
of  putting  the  primary  things  first.  I  used  to  be  so 
"nice"  and  "finnicky"   that  the  idea  of  having   my 

98 


IN   THE   RAIN   AND   THE   DIRT 

clothes  wet  would  give  me  a  small  panic.  "They  would 
get  out  of  shape  and  look  badly,  and  have  to  be  pressed 
before  I  could  wear  them  again."  But  when  I  came  to 
the  conclusion  that  I  was  worth  more  than  clothes, 
that  my  health  was  of  more  importance  than  a  crease 
in  my  trousers,  I  found  I  was  taking  hold  of  a  principle 
which,  while  it  might  at  times  seem  to  be  rough  on  my 
clothing,  would  have  a  decidedly  beneficial  influence 
on  myself. 

And  this  leads  to  another  important  lesson  we  may 
learn  from  the  Indian.  He  is  not  as  "nice"  some- 
times as  I  wish  he  were,  but  we  are  far  too  nice,  often, 
for  health  and  comfort.  Many  a  woman  ruins  her 
health  by  wrecking  her  nerves,  drives  her  husband  dis- 
tracted, worries  and  annoys  her  children,  by  being  too 
nice  in  her  house.  I  have  found,  in  New  England 
and  elsewhere,  —  aye,  even  in  Old  England, — women 
who  valued  a  clean  house  more  than  they  valued  their 
own  lives,  the  happiness  of  their  children,  and  the 
comfort  of  their  husbands.  Indeed,  in  one  case  I  well 
remember  a  woman  drove  her  husband  into  temporary 
insanity,  and  finally  into  ignominious  flight  away  from 
her,  by  her  eternal  washing  of  floors,  shaking  of  car- 
pets, polishing  of  furniture,  and  dusting  down.  Every 
time  the  poor  fellow  went  in  from  the  workshop  he 
must  change  his  clothes.  If  he  came  in  from  the  out- 
side he  must  take  off  his  shoes  before  he  entered  the 
door.  If  he  put  his  warm  hand  down  on  the  polished 
table  he  was  rebuked,  for  his  wife  at  once  got  up, 
fetched  her  chamois  leather  and  rubbed  off  the  offend- 
ing marks.  Poor,  wretched  woman,  and  equally  poor, 
wretched  man !  No  wonder  he  went  crazy,  and  finally 
lost  his  manhood  and  ran  away. 

I  know  this  is  an  extreme  case.     But  I  vouch  for  its 

99 


IN   THE   RAIN   AND   THE    DHIT 

strict  triitli.  And  tliorc  are  tlioiisaiuls  of  women  (and 
men  too,  for  that  matter)  who  are  alllicted  in  a  serious 
measure  with  the  same  disease.  In  that  home  where 
niceness  is  vahied  more  than  health  and  comfort  and 
work  in  life,  there  lurks  serious  danger.  Go  to  the 
Indian,  and  while  I  do  not  suggest  that  you  lose  all 


HOPI    ('IIILDKFA'     ];.\JOYI\(;    THEIR    DAILY     Sl'OHT    ()\    TIIK     HACK    OF    A 

BURRO. 

niceness  by  any  means,  seek  to  learn  some  of  his 
philosophy  and  place  primary  things  first.  First, 
health,  happiness,  comfort,  peace,  contentment,  love; 
then  these   other  things. 

I'm  going  to  make  a  confession  that  I  am  afraid 
will  bring  me  into  sad  repute  with  some  of  my  readers. 

100 


IN  THE  RAIN   A.ND  the;  i)iK:T 

When  my  first  boy  was  born,  we  were  naturally  very 
proud  of  him.  As  he  grew  out  of  his  baby  clothes  we 
liked  to  see  him  look  nice  and  neat  and  clean.  He 
must  be  a  pretty  little  cherub,  dressed  in  white  and 
have  the  manners  of  a  Little  Lord  Fauntleroy.  Then 
I  came  to  the  conclusion  that  we  were  valuing  "nice- 
ness"  more  than  the  healthy  development  of  the 
child.  I  remonstrated  and  urged  a  change  but  to  no 
effect,  so  I  resolved  on  a  coup  d'etat.  One  morning 
after  the  youngster  was  dressed  up  in  his  white  bib 
and  tucker,  and  as  uncomfortable  and  unhappy  as 
any  and  all  healthy  children  feel  at  such  treatment, 
I  took  him  by  the  hand  and  led  him  out  of  doors 
and  out  of  sight  of  all  watchful  eyes,  where  there 
was  plenty  of  mud  and  plenty  of  water.  In  half  an 
hour  his  changed  appearance  was  a  marvel.  We 
started  a  little  stream  of  water,  which  we  then 
dammed.  We  made  mud  pies,  and  I  helped  him  mix 
the  "dough"  in  his  apron.  We  reveled  in  mud  from 
top  to  toe,  I  rolled  him  in  it,  so  that  back  was  as 
vividly  marked  as  front.  Not  a  remnant  of  niceness 
was  left  in  him.  We  went  home  happy  and  contented, 
laughing  and  merry,  but  bedaubed  and  beplastered 
everywhere.  We  had  had  such  a  good  time.  And 
it  was  such  fun  going  out  with  father.  We  were  going 
again  to-morrow  and  the  next  day  and  the  next.  And 
so  we  did.  It  needed  no  words,  no  argument.  It 
did  not  take  long  to  get  two  or  three  suits  of  brown 
canvas  or  blue  denim,  and  the  youngster  grew  up 
healthy,  happy,  vigorous,  strong,  tough,  and  often 
dirty,  rather  than  ansemic,  miserable,  dyspeptic,  weak 
and  ailing,  and  nice.  There  would  be  far  less  demand 
for  children's  tombstones,  surmounted  with  marble 
angels  and  inscribed  with  wretched  doggerel,  if  mothers 

101 


IN   IHE   RAIN   AND   TIIP:   DIRT 

valued  liealth  rather  than  niceness,  vigor  before  prim- 
ness, and  strength  immaculate  rather  than  bibs  and 
aprons.  So  I  say,  let  us  not  be  over-nice.  And  espe- 
cially let  us  not  train  our  children  to  value  clean  hands 
and  clothes  more  than  the  rugged  health  that  comes 
from  contact  with  the  soil  in  out-of-door  employments. 
1  find  one  can  enjoy  Homer,  and  Browning,  Dante,  and 
Shakspere,  all  the  better  because  his  body  is  vigorous 
and  strong,  his  brain  clear,  and  his  mind  active  as  the 
residt  of  rough-and-tumble  mountain  climbing,  desert 
tramping  or  riding,  and  walking  on  canyon  trails. 

Another  result  of  this  frank  and  fearless  acceptance 
of  out-of-door  conditions  is  manifested  in  a  readiness 
to  meet  difficulties  that  over-niceness  is  disinclined  to 
touch.  Let  me  illustrate.  Two  or  three  months  ago 
I  made  a  journey  with  two  Yuma  Indians  and  four 
white  men  down  the  overflow  of  the  Colorado  River 
to  the  Salton  Sea.  We  were  warned  beforehand  that 
it  would  be  "an  awfully  hard  trip."  We  were  told 
that  it  was  "hell  boiled  down"  to  try  to  go  through 
certain  places.  The  river  for  ten  or  twelve  miles  left 
its  bed  and  ran  wild  over  a  vast  tract  of  land  covered 
with  a  mesqiiite  forest.  Mesquite  is  a  fairly  dense 
tree  growth  covered  with  strong  and  piercing  thorns. 
When  we  came  to  this  place  we  had  to  cut  our  way 
through  the  thorny  thicket,  and  our  faces,  hands,  and 
bodies  all  suffered  with  fierce  scratchings  and  thorn- 
pricks.  Several  times  we  stuck  fast,  and  there  was 
nothing  for  it  but  to  jump  out  into  the  water  with  ax 
in  hand  and  cut  away  the  obstructions  or  lift  over  the 
boat.  My  Indian,  Jim,  though  dignified  and  serene, 
as  I  shall  fully  explain  elsewhere,  had  the  promptness 
that  over-niceness  destroys.  He  was  out  over  the  side 
of  the  boat  as  quickly  as  I  was,  ready  for  the  hard  and 

102 


IN   THE   RAIN   AND   THE   DIRT 

disagreeable  work.  Had  I  been  "nicely"  dressed,  and 
"nice"  about  the  feeling  of  water  up  to  my  middle,  too 
"nice"  to  wade  for  hours,  sinking  into  quicksands,  in 
order  to  find  the  best  passage  for  the  boats,  we  should 
hsive  been  there  yet.  We  cut  down  three  mesquite 
trees,  under  water,  in  order  to  get  our  boats  over  the 
stumps.  We  forced  our  way  through  tall  and  dense 
arrow  weeds,  one  in  front  and  the  other  behind  the 
boat,  lifting  and  forcing,  pulling  and  pushing.     It  was 


IN    THE    MESQUITE    FOREST   ON    OUR    WAY    TO    THE    SALTON    SEA. 

not  "nice"  work,  but  it  was  invigorating,  stimulating, 
and    soul-developing. 

The  other  day  I  went  photographing  on  the  Salton 
Sea.  When  the  launch  stopped  twenty  feet  from  the 
island  covered  with  pelicans,  where  I  wished  to  make 
photographs,  I  shouldered  my  camera,  stepped  out 
into  the  water,  which  came  up  to  my  thighs,  and 
walked  ashore.  The  engineer  wondered.  Why  should 
he  ?  Had  I  waited,  the  pelicans  would  have  flown 
away.  Speed  was  necessary.  "  Niceness  "  would  have 
prevented  my  getting  what  I  went  for.  When  I  stand 
on   the   lecture  platform,   or  in  the  pulpit,   or    in  the 

103 


IN   THE   RAIN   AND   THE    DIRT 

drawing-room;  wlieii  I  meet  ladies  in  the  parlor 
and  go  with  them  for  an  automobile  ride,  I  dress 
as  neatly  as  I  can  afford,  and  endeavor  to  look  "nice;" 
but  when  I  go  into  my  garden  to  work,  I  put  on  blue 
overalls,  a  flannel  shirt,  and  a  })air  of  lu^avy  shoes,  and 
I  try  not  to  be  nice.  I  roll  around  in  the  dirt,  I  feel  it 
with  my  hands,  I  revel  in  it,  for  thus,  I  find,  do  I  gain 
healthful  enjoyment  for  body,  mind,  and  soul.  I  owe 
many  things  to  the  Indian,  but  few  things  I  am  more 
grateful  for  than  that  he  taught  me  how  to  value  impor- 
tant things  more  than  "  looking  neat"  and  being  "  nice." 


104 


CHAPTER    VIII 
THE  INDIAN  AND  PHYSICAL  LABOR 

MINISTERS  and  orators,  teachers  and  statesmen, 
members  of  the  W.  C.  T.  U.,  as  well  as  the  Y.  M. 
C.  A.,  of  the  white  race,  all  profess  to  believe  that  the 
white  race  believes  in  the  dignity  of  physical  labor. 

That  profession  is  often  a  lie. 

We  no  more  believe  in  the  dignity  of  physical  labor 
than  we  do  in  the  refinement  of  a  hog.  Our  actions 
give  the  direct  lie  to  our  words.  I  am  writing  with  the 
utmost  calmness,  and  say  these  strong  words  with 
deliberate  intent.  As  a  nation  we  are  humbugs  when 
we  pretend  to  believe  in  the  dignity  of  labor.  Perhaps, 
after  all,  we  do  believe  in  it,  but  in  most  cases  it  is  not 
for  ourselves,  but  for  "the  other  fellow." 

On  the  other  hand,  the  Indian  really  and  truly 
believes  in  the  dignity  of  physical  labor.  A  chief 
would  just  as  soon  be  "caught"  dressing  buckskin, 
or  sewing  a  pair  of  moccasins,  or  irrigating  his  corn- 
field as  lolling  on  a  Navaho  blanket  "smoking  the 
pipe  of  peace."  With  the  white  race  this  is  not  so. 
Men  believe  in  the  dignity  of  labor  as  much  as  they  do 
in  the  brotherhood  of  man.  They  would  no  more  be 
seen  doing  physical  labor  —  wheeling  a  wheelbarrow, 
for  instance,  digging  a  ditch,  building  a  wall,  plowing 
a  potato  patch,  or  doing  any  other  physical  work, 
save  the  few  things  men  are  allowed  to  do  without 
being  thought  peculiar,  as,  for  instance,  taking  care 
of  a  small  home  garden,  taking  the  ashes  out  of  the 
furnace,  and  things  of  that  kind  —  than  they  would  be 

105 


THE   INDIAN   AND    PHYSICAL   LABOR 

seen  pickiiif]^  their  neighbors'  pockets  or  burglarizing 
their  liouses.  When  they  want  to  gain  exercise  they 
go  to  some  indoor  gymnasium,  where  the  air  is  the 
breathetl-over,  dead  air  of  a  luuidred  people,  and  they 
swing  dumb-bells,  [)ull  on  weights,  struggle  franti- 
cally on  bars,  and  do  other  similar  and  fool-like  things, 


A    HAVASUPAI    GIRL,    WEAVER    OF    BASKETS. 

because,  forsooth,  these  things  are  gentlemanly;  or 
they  go  out  and  swing  golf-clubs  and  pursue  a  poor 
innocent  Uttle  ball  over  the  "hnks,"  while  gaping 
caddies  look  on  at  their  wild  strokes,  and  listen  to  the 
insane  profanity  with  w^hich  they  try  to  compel  them- 
selves to  believe  that  they  are  "gentlemen,  bah  Jove!" 
Of  all  the  contemptible,  shuffling,  and  mean  sub- 

106 


THE  INDIAN  AND   PHYSICAL  LABOR 

terfuges  the  white  race  is  capable  of,  this  seems  to  me 
to  be  about  the  meanest  and  most  contemptible.  To 
pretend  to  believe  in  the  dignity  of  labor,  and  then  at 
any  and  all  opportunities  afforded  to  labor  to  dodge 
away  and  do  these  useless  and  selfish  things  that  do 
not  take  off  one  ounce  of  the  burden  of  physical  labor 
we  have  imposed  upon  our  fellows. 

Let  me  not  be  thought  for  a  moment  to  be  opposed 
to  any  healthful  recreation  or  sport.  If  golf  be  pur- 
sued as  a  recreation,  for  fun,  I  am  heartily  in  accord 
with  it  and  its  promoters.  It  is  when  it  is  taken  as  an 
"exercise,"  as  a  substitute  for  honest  and  useful  labor, 
that  I  protest  against  it,  as  a  fraud,  a  delusion,  a  snare, 
and  a  contemptible  subterfuge.  If  you  want  real 
exercise,  real  work,  go  and  relieve  some  poor  fellow- 
man  of  his  excess  of  hard  work.  Tell  him  you  have 
come  to  give  him  an  hour's  rest,  that  he  may  go  and 
study  nature,  go  and  look  at  the  flowers  of  your  garden, 
wander  into  the  woods  and  hear  the  birds  sing,  or 
visit  the  public  library  and  read  some  entertaining 
and  instructive  book.  If  you  are  too  ashamed  to 
openly  try  to  give  an  hour  or  two  of  rest  and  change 
to  your  "brother"  man,  go  and  chop  the  wood  for  the 
house,  dig  up  the  potato  patch,  wheel  out  the  manure 
from  the  stable,  or  do  some  other  useful  and  beneficial 
thing.  Pleasure  is  pleasure,  sport  is  sport,  fun  is  fun, 
but  to  engage  in  these  sports  seriously,  as  a  physical 
exercise  to  counteract  the  effects  of  your  evil  dietetic 
habits  or  other  grossnesses,  is  to  add  hypocrisy  and 
subterfuge   to   evil   living. 

What  labor  the  Indian  has  to  do  he  does  gladly, 
cheerfully,  openly.  He  is  not  ashamed  to  have  soiled 
hands  or  to  be  caught  in  the  act.  In  this  I  am  heartily 
in   accord   with   him.     If  I    ever   wrote   a   creed   one 

107 


THE   INDIAN   AND  PHYSICAL  LABOR 

of  the  first  articles  of  my  religion  Avould  be:  "I 
believe  in  the  benefit  and  joy  of  physical  labor."  If 
I  had  my  way  I  would  compel  every  member  of  the 
so-called  "learned"  professions  (!),  from  preacher  to 
lawyer,  teacher  and  doctor,  statesman,  })olitician, 
and  bartender,  to  spend  not  less  than  three  hours  at 


HOPI    INDIAN    WEAVING    A    DRESS    FOR    HIS    WIFE. 


hard  physical  labor  every  day,  and  as  for  my  brother 
preachers,  I  would  put  them  to  road-making  every 
Monday,  for  half  the  day  at  least,  so  that  by  practical 
knowledge  of  road-making  on  earth  they  might  be 
better  able  to  preach  to  their  congregations  the  follow- 
ing Sunday  about  the  road  to  heaven.     There  is  noth- 

108 


THE   INDIAN  AND   PHYSICAL  LABOR 

ing  that  more  reveals  that  we  are  a  people  of  caste 
and  class  than  the  attitude  of  the  rich  and  the  " learned" 
toward  physical  labor,  I  am  not  in  sympathy  with 
that  attitude  in  any  respect ;  I  despise,  hate,  loathe  it, 
and  would  see  it  changed.  To  the  Indian,  for  his 
honest  respect  for  and  indulgence  in  physical  labor^ 
I  give  my  adherence  and  honor. 


109 


VARIOUS    ARTICLES    OF    USE    AND    ORNAMENT    MADE    AND    DECORATED 

BY    INDIANS. 


CHAPTER    IX 

THE  INDIAN  AND  PHYSICAL  LABOR  FOR  GIRLS 
AND  WOMEN 

TN  the  preceding  chapter  I  have  given  the  Indian's  life, 
-*•  habit,  thought,  towards  physical  labor  for  himself 
and  his  sons.  He  holds  the  same  attitude  toward  it 
for  his  daughter  and  his  wife.  And  not  only  does  he 
so  hold  it,  but  the  wife  and  daughter  regard  it  in 
exactly  the  same  way.  The  out-door  life  of  the  Indian 
girl  and  woman  makes  her  healthy,  vigorous,  muscular, 
and  strong.  She  glories  in  her  physical  vigor  and 
strength,  and  wonders  why  her  white  sister  is  not  equal 
to  her  in  physical  capacity.  When  I  tell  her  that  the 
white  women  pity  her  because,  forsooth,  "she  has  to 
do  so  much  hard  work,  while  the  lazy  men  sit  by, 
smoking,  and  doing  nothing,"  she  looks  at  me  in 
vacant  amazement.  Once  when  I  was  talking  in  this 
way  one  of  them  said:  "Are  your  white  women  all 
fools  .^  Tell  them  we  not  only  don't  need  their  pity, 
but  we  despise  them  for  their  habits  of  life  that  lead 
them  to  pity  us.  The  Creator  made  us  with  the 
capacity  and  power  for  work.  He  knows  that  all  be- 
ings must  work,  if  they  would  be  healthy.  We  would 
be  healthy,  and  therefore  we  do  His  will  in  working 
at  our  appointed  tasks.  We  are  glad  and  proud  to 
do  them.  And  as  for  the  men:  let  them  dare  to  in- 
terfere in  our  work  and  they  will  soon  see  what  they 
will  see.  We  brook  no  interference  or  help  from 
them." 

So   their   children    (girls   as  well   as   boys)    are   all 

111 


LABOR   FOR   (ilRLS  AND   WOMEN 

brought  np  from  tlie  earliest  years  to  work,  and  to  work 
liard.  Boys  are  sent  out  to  herd  sheep,  horses,  and 
cattle;  to  watch  the  corn  and  see  that  nothing  disturbs 
it.  And  the  girls,  as  soon  as  they  can  toddle,  become 
"little  mothers"  to  their  younger  brothers  and  sisters. 


HOPI    WOMEN    BUILDING    A    HOUSE    AT    ORAIBI,    ARIZONA. 


As  they  grow  older  they  grind  all  the  corn,  gather 
all  the  wild  grass  and  other  seeds,  make  all  the  basketry 
and  pottery,  and  prepare  all  the  food  for  the  household. 
To  grind  corn  in  the  Indian  fashion,  with  flat  rock 
and  metate,  is  no  easy  task  for  a  strong  man  of  the 
white  race,  yet  I  have  known  a  girl  of  fifteen  to  keep 

112 


LABOR   FOR   GIRLS   AND   WOMEN 

at  work  at  the  metate  for  ten  hours  a  day  for  several 
days  in  succession,  in  order  that  there  might  be  plenty 
of  flour  when  guests  came  to  the  Snake  Dance. 

On  one  of  my  visits  to  the  Hopi  village  of  Oraibi 
I  found  the  women  at  work  building  a  house.  This 
is  their  occupation.  All  labor  among  Hopis  is  divided 
between  the  sexes  in  accordance  with  long-established 
custom,  and  I  think  it  is  so  divided  in  all  aboriginal 
peoples.  The  men  undertook  the  protection  of  the 
home  (were  the  warriors)  and  the  hunting  of  animals 
for  food.  They  also  make  the  robes  and  moccasins. 
Those  tribes  that  lost  their  nomad  character  and 
became  sedentary  added  care  of  the  fields  and  the 
stock  to  the  work  of  their  men.  The  women  practi- 
cally undertook  all  the  rest.  The  building  of  the 
home,  its  care,  the  general  gathering  of  seeds,  and  the 
preparation  of  all  foods  belong  to  them. 

And  as  a  rule,  they  do  their  chosen  or  appointed  or 
hereditary  work  cheerfully.  They  know  nothing  of 
the  aches  and  pains  of  their  weaker  white  sisters; 
they  are  as  strong  as  men,  so  they  have  no  fear  of 
physical  labor.  Not  only  this,  but  they  enjoy  it;  they 
go  to  it  with  pleasure,  as  all  healthy  bodies  do.  How 
often  have  I  stood  and  watched  a  healthy,  vigorous 
man  swing  a  hammer  at  the  forge,  or  in  a  mine  or  a 
trench.  How  easily  it  was  done,  how  gladly,  how 
unconscious  of  effort!  To  the  healthy  woman,  with 
reasonable  strength,  labor  is  also  a  pleasure.  To  feel 
one's  self  accomplishing  something,  and  able  to  do  it 
without  undue  fatigue  or  exhaustion,  what  a  delight 
it  is! 

The  woman  who  honors  us  by  coming  to  our  house 
weekly  to  do  the  heavy  work,  often  reminds  me  of  a 
panther.     She  fairly  "leaps"  upon  her  work  with  an 

113 


LABOR   FOR   GIRLS   AND   WOMEN 

exul)oraiic'e  of  strength  and  sjjirit  that  is  a  })erfect 
th'hght,  in  this  age  of  woman's  physical  disabihty 
and  disincHnation  to  do  physical  labor. 

So  it  is  with  Indian  women.     They  sing  in  nnison 


&>MHSlr' 


NAVAHO    :MATni:\S    CAHRYIXG    WATER    OVER    THE    DESERT. 


when  a  dozen  of  them  get  together  at  the  grinding- 
trough;  though  the  work  is  hard  enough,  when  long 
continued,  to  exhaust  any  strong  man.  I  have  seen 
women  kneel  and  pound  acorns  all  day,  lifting  a  heavy 
pestle  as  high  as  their  heads  at  every  stroke.     In  the 

114 


LABOR  FOR   GIRLS  AND   WOMEN 

case  of  these  women  builders  at  Oraibi:  they  carried 
all  the  hea\y  rocks  and  put  them  in  position,  mixed 
their  own  mortar,  and  were  their  own  paddies,  and 
in  everything,  save  the  placing  of  the  heavy  cross- 
beams for  the  roof,  to  handle  which  they  called  upon 
some  of  the  men  for  aid,  they  did  all  the  work  from 
beginning  to  end. 

Now,  while  I  do  not  especially  want  to  see  white 


INDIAN   MAIDENS   TAUGHT   BY   THEIK    MOTHER   TO    BE    BASKET  WEAVERS. 

women  building  a  house,  I  do  wish,  with  all  my 
heart,  that  they  had  the  physical  strength  to  do  it 
or  similar  arduous  labor.  I  do  long  for  the  whole  of 
my  race  that  the  women  and  girls  shall  have  such 
vigorous  health  and  strength  that  no  ordinary  labor 
could  tire  them. 

"  But, ' '  say  my  w  hite  friends,  —  women  and  girls,  — 
"we  don't  want  to  work  physically;    there  is  no  need 

115 


ft  2^    ^ 


(UAHLILA    BASKET    WEAVER    WORKING    IN    THE    OPEN    AIR. 


LABOR   FOR   GIRLS   AND   WOMEN 

for  it;  we  are  not  strong  enough  to  do  it;  we  exhaust 
ourselves,  and  then  do  not  have  energy  enough  for  the 
other  duties  of  Hfe;  we  engage  servants  to  do  our 
menial  labor  for  us." 

Indeed!  In  the  first  place  I  want  to  protest  with 
all  the  power  I  have  against  the  word  and  idea  "  menial." 
There  is  no  menial  service.  All  service,  rendered 
in  willing  helpfulness  and  love,  is  dignified,  noble,  and 
ennobling.  He  or  she  who  accepts  service  from 
another  with  the  idea  that  the  service  is  "menial," 
thereby  degrades  himself,  herself,  far  more  than  the 
person  is  "degraded"  by  the  performance  of  the 
service.  I  would  rather  have  my  son  a  good  scavenger, 
working  daily  to  keep  the  city  pure  and  clean,  than  be 
an  "honored"  lawyer,  engaged  in  dishonest  cases; 
a  "successful"  politician,  tangled  up  with  graft;  a 
"popular"  physician,  selfishly  deceiving  his  patients; 
or  an  "eloquent"  and  "dear"  minister,  self-righteously 
lauding  himself  and  pouring  forth  inane  platitudes 
in  high-sounding  phrases  from  the  pulpit.  "Menial 
service"  is  divine  compared  with  these  occupations 
when  they  are  demoralized. 

And  the  principle  of  all  I  have  said  applies  to  girls 
as  well  as  boys.  I  would  rather  that  daughters  of  mine 
should  be  able  to  scrub  the  floor,  bake  bread,  do  the 
family  washing  and  mending,  repair  the  boys'  clothes, 
knit,  sew,  and  take  care  of  the  kitchen  garden  and  the 
flowers,  than  strum  "The  Battle  of  Prague"  or  "The 
Maiden's  Prayer,"  without  feeling  or  expression,  on 
a  half-tuned  piano.  The  former  occupations  are 
holy  and  dignified  as  compared  with  the  sham  exhibi- 
tion of  the  latter.  I  like  to  see  a  girl  with  an  apron 
on,  strong,  healthy,  willing,  useful,  capable,  engaged 
in  useful  household  work,  and  if  our  young  men  had 

117 


LABOR    FOR   GIRLS   AND    WOMEN 

one-toiith  part  of  tlie  sense  they  ought  to  have,  they 
^voulcl  hunt  for  such  girls  to  become  their  wives  and  tlie 
mothers  of  their  children,  rather  than  for  the  dainty, 
white-faced,  w^asp-w-aisted,  finger-manicured  dolls  who 
are  useful  for  no  other  purpose  than  to  be  looked  at. 

I  have  no  desire  to  make  pack-horses  or  slaves  of 
intelligent  women  or  girls,  but  I  cannot  help  asking 
the  question  of  them:  ""Which  would  you  rather  be, 
strong  enough  to  do  any  and  all  so-called  menial  and 
laborious  service,  and  endowed  with  perfect  health, 
or  be  weakly  and  puny  and  live  the  life  of  ease  and 
luxury  that  most  women  and  girls  seem  to  covet?" 
And  upon  the  answer  to  that  question  should  I  base 
my  judgment  as  to  the  wisdom,  intelligence,  and  fitness 
for  the  duties  of  life  of  the  answerer.  There  is  no 
dignity  in  woman  superior  to  the  dignity  of  being  able 
personally  (if  necessary)  to  care  for  all  the  physical 
needs  of  her  household;  there  is  no  charm  greater 
than  the  charm  of  strength  coml^ined  with  gracious, 
w^omanly  sweetness  exercised  for  the  joy  of  others; 
there  is  no  refinement  greater  than  the  refinement  of 
a  gloriously  healthy  woman  radiating  physical,  mental, 
spiritual  life  upon  all  those  who  come  within  the 
sphere  of  her  influence. 


118 


CHAPTER   X 
THE  INDIAN  AND   DIET 

A  MAN  is  largely  the  result  of  what  he  eats.  Indeed, 
"^^^  many  scientific  specialists  now  tell  us  that  sex  de- 
termination is  largely  the  result  of  the  food  eaten  by 
the  expectant  mother,  so  that  according  to  what  the 
mother  eats  the  unborn  child  becomes — male  or  female. 
Ploss  in  his  well-known  "  Ueber  die  das  Geschlecht- 
sverhdltniss  der  Kinder  bedingenden  Ursachen,''  Diising 
in  his  painstaking  "Die  Regidirimg  des  Geschlechts- 
verhdltnisses  bei  der  Vernehrung  der  Menschen,  Miere 
und  Pflanzeti,^'  and  Westermarck  in  the  "History 
of  Human  Marriage,"  prove  conclusively,  from  close 
study  of  actual  experimentation,  that  the  sex  of  the 
child  is  largely  fixed  by  the  quantity  and  quality  of 
nutrition  absorbed  by  the  mother.  Hence  it  is  not  too 
strong  a  statement  that  a  man  is  largely  the  result  of 
his  (or  his  mother's)  food. 

At  first  sight  it  will  appear  foolish  to  many  of  my 
readers  to  go  to  the  Indian  for  ideas  on  diet,  yet  I 
think  I  can  prove,  more  conclusively  than  the  learned 
scientists  whose  books  I  have  named  above  can  prove 
their  theories,  that  the  Indian  has  many  ideas  on  diet 
which  the  white  race  can  learn  to  its  great  advantage. 

In  the  first  place,  the  normal  aborigine,  before  he 
began  to  use  the  white  man's  foods,  was  perforce 
compelled  to  live  on  a  comparatively  simple  diet. 
His  choice  was  limited,  his  cookery  simple.  Yet  he 
lived  in  perfect  health  and  strength.  With  few  articles 
of  diet,  and  these  of  the  simplest  character,  prepared 

119 


THE   INDIAN   AND    DIET 

in  the  readiest  and  easiest  ways,  lie  attained  a  vio;or,  a 
robustness,  that  puts  to  shame  the  strength  and  power 
of  civiHzed  men.  Why?  Tlie  reasons  are  not  far  to 
seek.     In  simpHcity  of  food  there  is  safety.     We  eat 


HAVASUPAI    WOMAN   AL^XING    BREAD    IN   THE    OPEN    AIR. 


not  only  too  much,  but  too  great  variety,  and  every 
student  of  dietetics  knows  that  the  greater  the  variety 
the  greater  the  possibility  that  too  much  will  be  eaten. 
The  Indian,  living   his   simple  life,  was  compelled  to 

120 


THE   INDIAN   AND   DIET 

be  content  with  the  maize,  beans,  pumpkins,  and  mel- 
ons of  his  fields,  the  peaches  of  his  orchards,  the  wild 
grass  seeds,  nuts,  fruits,  and  roots  he  or  his  squaw 
could  gather,  and  the  products  of  his  traps  or  the 
chase.  Here,  then,  was  a  restricted  dietary.  He  had 
not  much  choice,  nor  a  large  menu  for  each  meal. 
The  smaller  the  menu  the  less,  as  a  rule,  any  person 
will  eat,  be  he  Indian  or  white  man.  The  extended 
menu  is  a  series  of  temptations  to  overeat.  The  simple 
menu  of  the  Indian  was  a  preventive  to  gluttony.  It 
will  doubtless  be  recalled  that  when  the  great  Bismarck 
was  broken  down  in  health,  his  physicians  gave  him 
no  other  prescription  as  to  food  than  that  he  should  eat 
but  one  kind  of  food  to  a  meal.  This  is  a  dietetic 
axiom:  The  less  variety  the  less  one  eats.  In  a 
diseased  condition  health  can  often  be  restored  by  giv- 
ing the  stomach  and  assimilative  organs  less  work  to  do. 
Among  the  Indian  race  dyspepsia  is  almost  unknown. 
To  this  fact  that  they  have  a  small  variety  of  foods,  this 
healthful  condition  is  largely  attributable.  On  the 
other  hand,  one  has  but  to  pick  up  any  daily  newspaper 
to  see  the  positive  proofs  of  the  dyspeptic  condition  of 
the  "greatest  nation  of  the  world"  among  the  white 
race.  There  are  nostrums  for  dyspepsia  without  end. 
Syrups,  pills,  doses  that  work  while  you  sleep,  and 
dopes  that  work  inside  and  out.  Millions  of  dollars 
are  annually  spent  merely  in  advertising  these  dam- 
nable proofs  of  our  idiocy  or  gluttony,  or  both.  A 
thousand  nostrums  flout  their  damned  and  damning 
lies  in  the  faces  of  the  "  superior  race"  !  And  a  drug 
store  on  every  corner  of  our  large  cities  demonstrates 
the  great  demand  there  is  for  these  absolute  proofs 
of  our  vile  dietetic  habits.  Every  pill  taken,  every 
nostrum  swallowed,  is  a  proof    positive  of  our  ignor- 

121 


THE   INDIAN   AND   DIP:T 

ance,  or  our  orluttony,  or  our  gullibility,  and  probably 
a  good  deal  of  each.  Seventy-five  millions  of  dol- 
lars were  spent  in  1905  in  the  purchase  of  patent 
medicines,  every  cent  of  which  was  worse  than  wasted. 

Before  the  white  race  came  and  perverted  —  pardon 
me,  civilized  —  him,  what  did  the  "uncivilized  Indian" 
know  of  patent  medicines  ?  What  did  he  know  of  the 
diseases  which  these  nostrums  are  supposed  to  cure? 
Nothing!  He  was  as  ignorant  of  one  as  the  other.  In 
his  native  wildness  he  was  healthy  and  strong;  only 
since  he  has  been  led  into  evil  ways  by  a  false  civiliza- 
tion has  he  so  degenerated  as  to  need  such  compounds. 

Let  us,  then,  forget  our  civilization,  —  this  portion 
of  it,  —  and  forego  our  physical  ills  and  our  patent 
nostrums,  and  go  back  to  a  simple,  natural,  restricted 
diet.  In  that  one  course  of  procedure  will  be  found 
more  restored  health  than  all  the  physicians  of  the 
world  can  give  otherwise  in  a  score  of  years.  Let  us 
learn  to  eat  few^  things  to  a  meal,  and  those  of  such  a 
nature  that  they  will  properly  mix,  and  thus  not  overtax 
the  stomach  in  its  work  of  digestion. 

\Mien  I  sit  down  to  the  laden  tables  of  my  rich 
friends,  or  at  the  tables  of  the  first-class  hotels  of  the 
country,  I  sometimes  find  my  judgment  stronger  than 
my  perverted  appetite.  At  such  times  I  look  over  the 
bill  of  fare.  I  see  ten  or  a  dozen  courses,  varying 
from  cocktails,  oysters,  and  fish  to  ice-cream,  fruit,  and 
wines.  There  are  meats  and  vegetables,  nuts  and 
fruits,  cooked  and  uncooked,  pastries  and  jellies, 
soups  and  coffee,  wines  and  spices,  sauces,  relishes, 
and  seasonings  galore,  and  I  am  more  or  less  disgusted 
with  the  whole  business,  and  eat  sparingly  of  but  two 
or  three  dishes.  At  other  times,  alas!  my  appetite 
asserts  itself,  and  I  "go  the  pace"  with  the  rest.     Now, 


THE   INDIAN   AND   DIET 

when  all  these  things,  so  elaborately  prepared,  so 
daintily  served,  so  "nicely"  eaten,  are  disposed  of 
and  in  the  stomach,  let  me  ask  (without  any  desire 
to  offend) :  Is  there  the  slightest  difference  in  the  con- 
tents of  the  stomach  of  such  a  person  and  the  stomach 
of  a  hoo;  filled  with  swill?  In  the  first  case  there  is 
cocktail  and  caviar,  olives  and  celery,  oysters  and 
soup,  fish  and  entremes,  entree  and  roast,  game  and 
punch,  ice-cream  and  cheese,  pastry  and  fruit,  nuts 
and  crackers,  with  water,  coffee,  tea,  or  wine  to  liquefy 
it  all,  all  taken  separately,  but  now  mixed  in  one 
horrible  mess  within,  and  in  the  case  of  the  hog  they 
were  mixed  first  and  swallowed  mixed  instead  of  in 
courses. 

O  men  and  women  of  the  wliite  race,  of  the  supe- 
rior civilization,  quit  such  gluttony  and  disease-breeding 
courses!  Get  back  to  the  Indian's  simplicity  in  diet. 
Learn  the  meaning  of  "low  living  and  high  thinking." 
Stop  pampering  your  sensual  appetites  and  feeding 
your  stomachs  at  the  expense  of  your  minds,  aye,  and 
at  the  expense  of  your  souls,  for  men  and  w^omen  Avho 
thus  live  continuously,  generally  become  selfish,  indif- 
ferent to  the  sufferings  of  others,  "proud  stomached"  — 
which  means  much  more  than  it  seems  to  mean  —  and 
incapable  of  the  finer  feelings. 

Nor  is  this  all  that  the  Indian  may  teach  us  as  to 
diet.  Wliile  at  times  he  eats  everything  he  can  lay 
his  hands  upon  and  also  eats  ravenously,  in  his  normal 
condition  he  eats  slowly  and  masticates  thoroughly. 
Since  Horace  Fletcher  wrote  his  most  interesting  and 
useful  books  on  diet  and  life,  the  term  "fletcherizing" 
has  become  almost  universal  amongst  thoughtful  peo- 
ple to  express  mastication  to  the  point  of  liquifaction. 
But  I  was  familiar  w^ith  "fletcherizing"  before  I  had 

124 


THE   INDIAN   AND   DIET 


ever  heard  of  Mr.  Fletcher.  The  Indians,  with  their 
parched  corn,  had  taught  me  years  before  the  benefit 
of  thorougli  and  complete  mastication.  I  had  gone 
off  with  a  band  of  Indians  on  a  hard  week's  ride  with 
no  other  food  than  parched  corn  and  a  few  raisins. 
This  was  chewed 
and  chewed  and 
chewed  by  the 
hour,  a  handful  of 
the  grain  making 
an  excellent  meal, 
and  thoroughly 
nourishing  the  per- 
fect bodies  of  these 
stalwart  athletes, 
who  never  knew 
an  ache  or  a  pain, 
and  who  could 
withstand  fatigue 
and  hardship  with- 
out a  thought. 

A  marked  and 
wonderful  effect  of 
thorough  mastica- 
tion is  that  it  de- 
creases the  appetite 

from  10  to  15  per  cent,  and  reduces  the  desire  for  flesh 
meat  from  30  to  50  per  cent.  The  more  we  masticate 
the  less  we  desire  to  eat,  and  the  more  normal  our 
appetites  become.  This  in  itself  is  a  thing  to  be  desired, 
for  it  is  far  easier  not  to  have  an  abnormal  appetite 
than  it  is  to  control  it  when  it  has  fastened  itself 
upon  us. 

Then,  too,  while  Indians  w^ill  often  eat  to  repletion, 

125 


MY    HAVASUPAI    HOSTESS    PARCHING    CORN    IN 
A    BASKET. 


THE   INDIAN   AND   DIET 

and  at  Ihcir  feasts  iiululgc  in  disgusting  gorging, 
they  do  know  how  to  fast  with  cahnness  and  equa- 
nimity. I  am  not  prepared  to  say  that  they  will  fast 
vokmtarily  —  except  in  the  cases  of  those  neophytes 
wlio  are  seeking  some  unusual  powers  or  gifts  from 
Those  Above  —  yet  I  do  know  that  several  times  I 
have  been  with  them  when  fasting  was  obligatory 
because  of  the  scarcity  of  food,  and  they  accepted  the 
condition  without  a  murmur.  I  know  a  very  prominent 
physician  in  San  Francisco,  who  has  an  extensive  prac- 
tice, who  pumps  the  food  out  of  the  stomachs  of  several 
of  his  gluttonous  patients  after  their  hearty  French 
dinners.  He  defends  his  course  of  procedure  by 
saying  that  his  patients  would  not  listen  to  him  if  he 
counseled  fasting  for  even  one  meal,  yet  they  are 
willing  to  allow  him  to  remove  the  food  after  it  is 
eaten,  and  to  swallow  some  harmless  "dope"  that  he 
gives  them,  because  that  is  easy  and  requires  no  self- 
control. 

I  know  the  power  of  appetite;  I  know  how  hard 
it  is  to  eat  only  that  which  the  reason  tells  us  is  best. 
1  know  how  hard  it  is  to  eat  slowly  and  thoroughly 
masticate  the  food,  but  I  also  know  that  these  things 
are  imperative  if  one  would  have  perfect  health. 
Therefore,  in  spite  of  my  many  lapses  into  the  old 
habits,  I  persist  in  asserting  the  good  over  the  evil,  and 
in  teaching  the  good  to  others,  in  the  hope  that,  in  my 
own  case,  the  good  course  will  become  the  easiest  to 
follow,  and  in  the  case  of  the  young  who  listen  to  me 
they  may  learn  the  best  way  before  they  have  fallen 
into   the   evil   way. 

There  is  one  other  thing  the  white  race  might 
learn  from  the  Indian,  and  that  is  that  the  habitual 
use  of  flesh  is  not  essential  to  health.     When  Captain 

126 


THE   INDIAN  AND   DIET 

Cook  visited  the  Maoris  of  New  Zealand,  he  found 
them  a  perfectly  healthy  people,  and  he  states  that 
he  never  observed  a  single  person  who  appeared  to 
have  any  bodily  complaint.  Nor,  among  the  number 
that  were  seen  naked,  was  once  perceived  the  slightest 
eruption  of  the  skin,  nor  the  least  mark  which  indi- 
cated that  such  eruptions  had  formerly  existed.  As 
Dr.  Kress  says: 

"Another  proof  of  the  health  of  these  people  was 
the  readiness  with  which  wounds  they  at  any  time 
received  healed  up.  In  a  man  who  had  been  shot 
with  a  musket-ball  through  the  fleshy  part  of  the  arm, 
'his  wound  seemed  well  digested,  and  in  so  fair  a  way 
to  be  healed,'  says  the  Captain,  'that  if  I  had  not 
known  that  no  application  had  been  made  to  it,  I 
should  have  inquired  with  very  interesting  curiosity 
after  the  vulnerary  herbs  and  surgical  art  of  the 
country.' 

" '  An  additional  evidence  of  the  healthiness  of  the 
New  Zealanders.'  he  says,  'is  in  the  great  number  of 
old  men  found  among  them.  Many  of  them  appeared 
to  be  very  ancient,  and  yet  none  of  them  were  decrepit. 
Although  they  were  not  equal  to  the  young  in  muscular 
strength,  they  did  not  come  in  the  least  behind  them 
in  regard  to  cheerfulness  and  vivacity.'  " 

At  the  advent  of  Captain  Cook,  the  Maoris  were 
practically  vegetarians;  they  had  no  domestic  or  wild 
animals  on  the  islands,  hence  could  not  have  been  flesh 
eaters. 

While  our  Indians  of  the  Southwest  will  eat  some 
forms  of  flesh  at  times,  they  are,  generally  speaking, 
vegetarians.  The  Navahos  scarcely  ever  eat  meat 
while  in  their  primitive  condition,  and  they  are  proud, 
independent,     high-spirited,     vigorous,     healthy,     and 

127 


THE  INDIAN   AND   DIET 

strong.  So  with  tlie  Ilavasupais  and  Wallapais,  and 
most  of  the  aborigines  of  this  region.  The  Apaches 
also  are  hirgely  vegetarians,  and  yet  are  known  as  a 
fierce  and  Avarlike  ])eople.  They  are  fierce  when 
aroused,  but  when  fi-iendly  are  kindly  disposed,  honest, 
reliable  and  good  workers,  strong,  athletic,  vigorous, 
and  healthy.  These  facts  demonstrate  that  flesh 
meat  is  not  necessary.  Meat  is  another  fetich  of  the 
civilization  of  the  white  race,  before  which  we  bow 
down  in  ignorant  worship.  The  world  would  be  far 
better  off,  in  my  judgment,  and  as  the  result  of  my 
observation  and  experience,  if  we  ate  no  flesh  at  all. 
Personally  I  am  never  so  well  physically  and  my  brain 
so  active  as  when  I  live  the  vegetarian  life,  though 
when  I  am  at  the  tables  of  meat  eaters  I  eat  whatever 
comes  and  make  the  best  of  it. 

The  experiences  of  thousands  of  healthy  and  vigorous 
white  men  demonstrate  that  meat  is  not  necessary 
to  the  highest  development.  Weston,  the  great  pedes- 
trian, is  both  a  teetotaler  and  vegetarian;  Bernarr 
Macfadden  and  several  of  his  muscular  helpers  are 
practical  vegetarians;  and  athletes,  business  men, 
lawyers,  judges,  doctors,  clergymen,  and  many  others 
testify  to  the  beneficial  effects  of  the  vegetarian  diet. 
There  is  no  man  in  the  civilized  world  to-day  that 
works  as  hard  and  as  continuously,  physically  as  well 
as  m.entally,  as  Dr.  J.  H.  Kellogg  of  the  Battle  Creek 
Sanitarium.  He  is  a  rigid  vegetarian,  and  seldom  eats 
more  than  one  meal  a  day.  Yet  he  works  from  16  to 
20  hours  daily,  edits  two  magazines,  writes  continually 
for  scientific  magazines  and  periodicals,  attends  to  a 
vast  correspondence,  is  the  business  head  of  the 
greatest  sanitarium  in  the  world,  consults  annually  with 
thousands  of  patients,  and  keeps  daily  watch  of  their 
condition,  gives  numberless  lectures,  is  always  experi- 

128 


THE   INDIAN   AND   DIET 

meriting  on  foods  and  surgical  appliances  and  inventing 
new  instruments  and  methods  for  curing  disease,  and 
at  the  same  time  performs  more  surgical  operations, 
perhaps,  with  less  fatal  results,  than  any  other  surgeon 
in  the  country.  Besides  this  he  is  the  president  of 
the  medical  college,  and  lecturer  to  the  students,  and 
gives  many  lectures  to  the  Medical  Missionary  Classes, 
and  withal,  finds  time  and  strength  to  confer  with, 
direct  the  education  of,  and  give  personal  love  to  the 
ten  or  fifteen  children  he  has  adopted  into  his  home  and 
made  his  own. 

Here  is  an  additional  item  which  adds  strength  to 
what  I  have  written: 

"The  attention  of  medical  men  has  recently  been 
called  to  the  case  of  Gustav  Nordin,  a  hardy  Swede 
who  paddled  his  own  canoe  from  Stockholm  to  Paris, 
reaching  there  in  robust  health  after  the  long  voyage, 
during  which  he  lived  on  apples,  milk,  water,  and  bread. 

"  The  New  York  Herald  states  that  this  dangerous 
and  arduous  voyage  was  undertaken  by  the  Swede  to 
show  what  could  be  done  by  a  man  who  has  given  up 
meat,  tea,  coffee,  wine,  beer,  spirits,  and  tobacco. 
He  prides  himself  in  eclipsing  those  'vegetarians' 
who  continue  the  use  of  tea  and  condiments. 

"When  in  America,  at  the  age  of  eighteen,  Nordin 
was  suffering  so  from  dyspepsia  that  he  could  not  take 
ordinary  food.  He  therefore  began  a  diet  of  fruit, 
principally  apples,  whereby  he  attained  to  his  present 
robust  condition  of  health." 

So,  meat-eating,  alcoholic-liquor-drinking  white 
race,  cast  aside  your  high-headedness  and  pride, 
your  dietetic  errors  and  ill-health,  at  one  and  the  same 
time,  and  go  and  learn  of  the  Indian  simplicity  of  diet, 
wise  limitation  of  your  dietary,  careful  and  thorough 
mastication,  and  abstention  from  all  flesh  foods. 

129 


CHAPTER    XI 

THE  INDIAN  AND  EDUCATION 

ri^AKE  it  all  in  all.  I  think  I  believe  more  in  the  Indi- 
-*■  an's  system  of  education  than  our  own, —  I  mean, 
in  the  principles  involved.  Our  education  is  largely  an 
education  of  books.  We  teach  from  books,  we  study 
from  books,  we  get  our  ideas  from  books,  Joaquin 
Miller's  reply  to  Elbert  Hubbard,  before  quoted,  seems 
to  many  people  to  be  a  foolish  remark.  But  I  see  a 
profound  thought  in  it.  It  was  the  poet's  protest 
against  the  too  great  use  of  books.  He  regards  books 
as  subversive  of  individual  thought.  He  contends  that 
books  retard  and  prevent  thought,  and  that  we  read, 
not  to  stimulate  thought,  but  to  deaden  it.  And  un- 
doubtedly too  much  reading  and  dependence  upon 
books  does  deaden  and  destroy  not  only  thought,  but, 
alas!  far  worse  still,  the  power  to  indulge  in  individual 
thought.  Hence  books  are  often  a  hindrance  and  a 
curse  instead  of  a  help  and  a  blessing. 

The  Indian  has  no  books.  While  he  has  tradition 
and  legend,  myth  and  story,  he  has  no  written  word. 
Everything  that  is,  as  differentiated  from  everything 
that  is  su])posed,  in  his  life  has  to  be  personally  learned 
by  individual  contact  with  the  things  themselves. 
Botany  is  the  study  of  flowers,  not  of  words  about 
flowers.  There  is  but  one  way  we  can  really  study 
botany,  and  that  is  out  in  the  fields  with  the  flower 
growing  before  us.  It  must  be  seen  day  in  and  day 
out  from  its  planting  until  its  fruition.  All  its  develop- 
ment must  be  known  and  understood.     The  properties 

130 


THE   INDIAN  AND   EDUCATION 

of  its  fruit,  its  roots,  its  stem,  its  leaves,  for  food,  medi- 
cinal, manufacturing,  or  other  purposes  are  all  con- 
nected with  the  study.  It  is  well  to  know  the  names 
of  the  plants,  the  names  of  all  parts  of  plants,  and  the 
families  and  species  to  which  they  belong,  but  these 
latter  things,  important  and  interesting  though  they 
be,  are  but  secondary  or  tertiary  as  compared  with 
the  primary  out-door  personal  and  intimate  knowledge 
I  have  referred  to. 

Those  who  think  the  Indian  uneducated  should 
read  Charles  Eastman's  (Ohiyesa)  book  telling  of  his 
boyhood  days  with  his  Sioux  parents  and  grandparents. 
Eastman  is  a  full-blooded  Sioux,  and  though  later 
educated  at  Dartmouth  College,  still  shows  by  his 
writings  and  words  how  much  he  reveres  his  wise 
teachers  of  the  open  air  and  the  woods. 

The  fact  is,  that  in  matters  pertaining  to  personal 
observation  the  Indian  children  are  far  ahead  of  our 
own  brightest  and  smartest  children;  they  observe 
the  slightest  deviations  from  the  regular  order.  Who 
does  not  know  of  the  Indian's  power  in  trailing.  I 
know  Navahos,  Mohaves,  Hopis,  Havasupais,  and 
others  who  will  follow  the  dimmest  trail  with  unerring 
certainty,  and  tell  you  the  details  of  the  actions  of  the 
person  or  animal  trailed.  This  is  education  of  a  won- 
derfully useful  kind;  a  kind  that  it  would  be  well  to 
give  more  of  to  our  own  children.  Indeed,  I  have 
been  saying,  both  privately  and  publicly,  for  many 
years,  and  I  here  repeat  it,  that  if  my  children  were 
trained  to  observe  and  reflect  upon  what  they  observed 
I  should  not  care  if  they  never  went  to  school  until 
they  were  grown  up  to  young  manhood  and  woman- 
hood. 

That  keen,  though  unusual  thinker,  Ernest  Crosby, 

131 


THE   INDIAN   AND   EDUCATION 

in  one  of  his  books,  presented  tlie  following,  which 
perfectly  meets  my  ideas  and  suggests  what  I  mean  in 
regard  to  the  Indian: 

EDUCATION 
Here  are  two  ('(lucated  men. 
The  one  has  a  smattering  of  I^atin  and  Greek; 
The  other  knows  the  speech  and  hahits  of  horses  and  cattle,  and 

"•ives  them  tlieir  food  in  <hie  season. 
The  one  is  accjuainted  with  the  roots  of  nouns  and  verbs; 
The  other  can  tell  you  how  to  plant  and  dig  potatoes  and  carrots 

and  turnips. 
The  one  tlrums  l)y  the  hour  on  the  piano,  making  it  a  terror  to 

the  neighljorhood ; 
The  other  is  an  expert  at  the  reaper  and  binder,  Avhich  fills  the 

world  with  good  cheer. 
The  one  knows  or  has  forgotten  the  higher   trigonometry   and 

the  differential  calculus; 
The  other  can  calculate  the  bushels  of  rve  standing  in  his  field 

and  the  number  of  barrels  to  buy  for  the  apples  on  the  trees 

in  his  orchard. 
The  one  understands  the  chemical  affinities  of  various  poisonous 

acids  and  alkalies; 
The  other  can  make  a  savory  soup  or  a  delectable  pudding. 
The  one  sketches  a  landscape  indifferently; 
The  other  can  shingle  his  roof  and  build  a  shed  for  himself  in 

a  Avorkman-like  manner. 
The  one  has  heard  of  Plato  and  Aristotle  and  Kant  and  Comte, 

but  knows  precious  little  about  them; 
The  other  has  never  been  troubled  by  such  knowledge,  but  he  will 

learn   the   first   and   last   word   of  philosophy,    ''  to   love," 

far  quicker,  I  warrant  you,  than  his  college-bred  neighbor. 
For  still  it  is  true  that  God  hath  hidden  these  things  from    the 

wise  and  prudent  and  revealed  them  unto  babes. 
Such  are  the  two  educations: 
Which  is  the  higher,  and  which  the  lower  .^* 

*From  Plain  Talk  in  Psalm  and  Parable,  by  Ernest  Crosby. 

132 


THE   INDIAN   AND   EDUCATION 

I  would  not  have  it  thought  that  I  am  opposed  to 
all  systematic  and  book  education,  even  on  our  present 
plan  or  under  our  present  system.     My  protest  is  not 


m 

-:.''' 

VJM^. 

W-'^^m 

- 

'  :iflH^^I 

'm 

m^ 

k-'^^K^ 

M 

'  9  Hi  HLiMj^^E 

M^''-'*^     ' 

A    NAVAHO    GRANDMOTHER    WITH    THE    BABY    SHE    LOVES,    AND    WHOSE 
EDUCATION    SHE    WILL    DIRECT. 

SO  wide  and  sweeping  as  that.     The  main  propositions 
upon  which  I  base  my  opposition  are: 

1.  That  we  do  not  pay  suflficient  attention  to  the 
physical  health  of  our  students,  making  health  of 
secondary,  tertiary,  or  quaternary  importance,  or 
often    not    giving    it     a     single    thought;     leaving     it 

133 


THE   INDIAN   AND   EDUCATION 

absolutely  to  regulate  itself,  when  it  should  be  the 
first,  primary,  determinate  aim  and  object  of  all  edu- 
cation. 

This  very  day  u})on  which  I  write  I  sat  at  a  pro- 
fessor's table.  lie  is  a  prominent  educator  in  one  of 
the  important  cities  of  the  West.  We  were  eating 
breakfast.  He  was  complaining  of  indigestion.  As 
he  ate  I  could  see  his  tongue  seamed  and  coated,  and 
his  lips  were  rough  and  fevered  as  with  stomach 
trouble.  He  helped  himself  to  mush, — four  times  as 
much  as  a  healthy  man  ought  to  have  taken,  and  in 
far  less  time  than  it  has  taken  me  to  write  this  he  had 
"shoveled"  it  all  in  and  "gobbled"  it  down.  (The 
words  in  quotation  marks  are  used  thoughtfully,  and 
they  more  truthfully  describe  what  was  the  absolute 
fact  than  any  other  words  with  which  I  am  familiar.) 

He  drank  two  glasses  of  milk  warm  from  the  cow, 
and  ate  French  bread  which  had  been  heated  in  the 
oven  and  then  saturated  with  butter.  The  night 
before  he  had  opened  a  can  of  sardines,  —  as  he  said, 
"to  see  what  he  could  eat,"  and  after  the  mush  he  ate 
a  few  of  them.  Then  the  maid  brought  in  bacon  and 
fried  eggs  and  coffee,  and  he  "did  justice"  to  them. 
Yet  he  wondered  why  he  was  troubled  with  indigestion, 
and  his  poor  wife  sent  w^ord  down  from  her  bedroom 
that  she  regretted  she  could  not  see  me  again  as  she 
was  suffering  severely  with  one  of  her  "regular"  sick 
headaches.  My  own  breakfast  consisted  of  a  small 
quota  of  mush,  some  of  the  hot  bread  (there  was  no 
other),  and  some  cold  milk.  I  felt  well  and  happy 
after  my  frugal  meal,  while  he  confessed  not  only  to 
feeling  heavy  and  "logy,"  but  unsatisfied  with  what 
he  had  eaten  — -  a  clear  proof  of  an  abnormal  appetite 
and   a  disordered   digestive   system. 

134 


THE   INDIAN   AND   EDUCATION 

Now,  is  it  to  be  expected  that  with  our  teachers 
themselves  so  ignorant  of  the  first  principles  of  healthy 
dietetics  our  students  should  know  any  better?     Our 


AN   AGED    COAHUILLA    BASKET  WEAVER. 
135 


THE   INDIAN   AND   EDUCATION 

whole  system  of  eating  is  wrong.  We  eat  anything 
and  everything  our  tastes  —  often  perverted  and  de- 
praved —  demand,  and  we  never  ask  ourselves  the 
question  as  to  whether  the  food  is  good,  or  our  methods 
of  eating  it  wise  and  proper.  In  my  chapter  on  the 
Indian  and  diet  I  discuss  this  question  more  thor- 
oughly, but  I  refer  to  it  in  this  connection  as  one  of  the 
great  defects  of  our  educational  system. 

2.  My  second  proposition  is,  that  we  keep  our 
students  indoors  all  the  time,  —  as  a  settled,  estab- 
lished custom, — with  occasional  short  periods  out  of 
doors,  instead  of  reversing  the  matter  and  keeping 
them  out  of  doors  all  the  time,  with  occasional  short 
periods   indoors. 

Why  keep  children  or  university  students  indoors.^ 
While  in  the  winter  climate  of  the  East  outdoor  life 
is  not  as  possible  as  it  is  in  the  balmy  West,  there 
certainly  can  be  much  more  time  spent  out  of  doors 
than  there  now  is.  We  pride  ourselves  upon  our 
scholastic  progressiveness,  yet  they  do  these  things  far 
better  in  Germany.  The  educational  and  medical 
authorities  of  Berlin  have  organized  a  forest  school 
for  the  city  children  of  the  crowded  districts  of  Berlin 
and  Charlottenburg.  In  a  wide  clearing  150  children 
follow  —  out  of  doors  —  the  usual  procedure  of 
school,  delightfully  varied  with  nature  study  at  first 
hand.  The  hours  of  work  are  short,  and  fresh  air  and 
exercise  are  given  a  supreme  importance.  The  chil- 
dren cook  their  own  dinners  at  a  camp-fire,  and  their 
desks  and  seats  and  shelter-sheds  were  made  from  the 
timber  felled  to  form  the  clearing.  At  1  o'clock  they 
are  all  required  to  take  an  hour's  nap,  for  which  each 
child  is  provided  with  a  blanket  and  a  reclining-chair. 

This  is  a  move  in  the  right  direction.     Our  schools 

136 


THE   INDIAN   AND   EDUCATION 

cost  the  nation  millions  of  dollars  each  year.  Surely 
we  have  a  right  to  demand  that  they  give  us  health 
for  our  children  in  exchange,  instead  of  ruining  it  in  so 
many  cases  as  they  now  do. 

In  Japan  out-of-door  schools  are  quite  common, 
especially  when  the  cherry  and  plum  trees  are  in 
blossom. 

In  Los  Angeles,  California,  a  business  college  holds 
many  of  its  class  sessions  out  of  doors,  and  I  trust  the 
time  will  come  w^ien  this  will  be  the  rule  in  all  schools, 
instead  of  the  exception. 

I  am  perfectly  well  aware  that  there  is  danger  that 
these  statements  will  be  taken  too  literally.  They 
must  be  taken  as  broad  and  general  statements.  My 
conception  is  that  in  our  present  condition  we  live 
indoors  and  go  out  of  doors  occasionally.  I  would 
have  that  proposition  reversed.  We  should  live  out 
of  doors  afid  go  indoors  occasionally. 

The  same  common  sense  and  rational  mode  of 
reading  my  words  must  be  applied  to  all  that  I  say  on 
out-of-door  education.  Naturally,  I  am  not  such  a 
fool  as  to  suppose  that  all  educational  or  scientific  or 
any  other  work  can  be  done  out  of  doors.  Though  I 
am  not  a  college  professor,  and  never  shall  be,  though 
I  am  not  a  scientific  expert,  and  never  can  be,  though 
I  am  not  many  things  that  other  men  are,  I  know 
enough  —  have  observed  and  seen  enough  —  to  know 
that  delicate  experiments  of  a  variety  of  kinds  need 
the  most  rigid  indoor  seclusion  for  their  successful 
conducting.  But  this  does  not  alter  my  general  propo- 
sitions, viz.,  that  the  health  of  students  is  of  more 
importance  than  any  and  all  education  given  in  schools 
or  colleges;  that  outdoor  life  is  more  conducive  to 
the   health    of   students   than   indoor   life,    and    that, 

137 


THE   INDIAN   AND   EDUCATION 

therefore,  where  possible,  all  education  sliould  be  given 
out   of   doors. 

3.  As  a  result  of  this  indoor  scholastic  life,  we  con- 
tent ourselves  by  teaching  our  children  from  books, — 
which  at  best  are  but  embalmed  knowledge,  canned 
information,    the     dry    bones    of     knowledge,    words 


AN    ALEUT    BASKET    MAKER.       THESE    WOMEN    MAKE    THE    MOST 
DELICATE    BASKETRY    IX    THE    WORLD. 


about  things,  —  instead  of  bringing  them  in  contact 
(as  far  as  is  possible  and  practicable)  with  the  things 
themselves.  I  believe  in  books;  I  believe  in  educa- 
tion; I  believe  in  schools,  in  colleges,  in  universities, 
in  teachers,  professors,  and  doctors  of  learning;  but  I 
do  not  believe  in  them  as  most  of  the  white  race  seem 

138 


THE   INDIAN   AND   EDUCATION 

to  do,  viz.,  as  good  in  themselves.  They  are  good 
only  as  they  are  instruments  for  good  to  the  children 
committed  to  their  care.  The  proper  education  of 
one  child  is  worth  more  to  the  world  than  all  the 
schools,  colleges,  and  universities  that  were  ever  built. 
One  Michael  Angelo,  one  Savonarola,  one  Francis  of 
Assisi,  one  Luther,  one  Agassiz,  one  Audubon,  is 
worth  more  to  the  world  than  all  the  schools  that  ever 
were  or  ever  will  be.  And  if,  by  our  present  imper- 
fect and  unhealthful  school  methods,  we  kill  off,  in 
childhood,  one  such  great  soul,  we  do  the  human  race 
irreparable  injury.  Let  us  relegate  the  school  to  its 
right  place,  and  that  is  secondary  to  its  primary,  — 
the  child.  The  school  exists  for  the  child,  not  the 
child  for  the  school.  As  it  now  is,  we  put  the  plastic 
material  of  which  our  nation  is  to  be  formed  into  the 
mould  of  our  schools,  and  regardless  of  consequences, 
indifferent  to  the  personal  equation  in  each  child, 
overlooking  all  individuality  and  personality,  the 
machine  works  on,  stamping  this  soul  and  mind  material 
with  one  same  stamp,  moulding  it  in  one  same  mould, 
hardening  it  in  the  fire  to  one  same  pattern,  so  that 
it  comes  forth  just  as  bricks  come  forth  from  a  fur- 
nace, uniform,  regular,  alike,  perhaps  pretty  to  the 
unseeing  eye,  but  ruined,  spoiled,  damned,  as  far  as 
active,  personal,  individualistic  life  and  work  are  con- 
cerned. The  only  human  bricks  that  ever  amount 
to  anything  when  our  educational  mill  has  turned  them 
out  are  those  made  of  refractory  clay, —  the  incom- 
plete ones,  the  broken  ones,  the  twisted  ones,  those 
that  would  not  or  could  not  be  moulded  into  the 
established  pattern. 

This  is  why  I  am  so  opposed  to  our  present  methods. 
Let  us  have  fewer  lessons  from  books,  and  more  knowl- 

139 


tup:   INDIAN   AND   EDUCATION 

edge  gained  by  personal  observation;  less  reading 
and  eramniing,  and  more  refieetive  thinking;  fewer 
pages  of  books  read,  and  more  results  and  deductions 
gained  from  personal  experiences  with  things  high  and 
low,  animate  and  inanimate,  that  catch  the  eye  and 
mind  out  of  dooi'.s;  and  above  all  the  total  cessation  of 
all  mental  labor  when  the  body  is  not  at  its  best. 
The  crowding  of  sick  and  ailing  children  is  more  cruel 
and  brutal  than  Herod's  slaughter  of  the  innocents, 
and  so  utterly  needless  and  useless  that  fools  couldn't 
do  worse.  ^Vliat  is  the  use  of  education  to  a  sick 
person,  and  especially  when  the  sickness  is  the  result 
of  the  educational  process.  God  save  us  from  any 
more   such   education ! 

Doubtless  I  shall  be  told  that  my  ideas  are  imprac- 
ticable. I  know  they  are  and  ever  will  be  to  those 
who  value  "the  system"  more  than  the  child.  Granted 
that  in  cold  and  wet  weather  students  can't  get  out  of 
doors  much.  Then  open  all  the  doors  and  all  the 
windows  and  give  up  the  time  to  marching,  to  physical 
exercises,  to  deep  breathing,  to  anything, —  romping 
even,- — rather  than  to  cramming  and  studying  a  set 
number  of  pages,  while  the  air  breathed  is  impure, 
unwholesome,  actively  poisonous.  When  our  edu- 
cational methods  thus  interfere  with  the  health  of  the 
child,  I  am  forever  and  unalterably  opposed  to  them. 
We  had  far  rather  have  a  nation  of  healthy  and  happy 
children,  growing  up  into  healthy  and  happy  man- 
hood and  womanhood,  even  though  devoid  of  much 
book  knowledge,  than  a  bloodless,  anaemic,  unhappy 
nation  though  filled  with  all  the  lore  of  the  ages.  Give 
me,  for  me  and  mine,  every  time,  physical  and  mental 
health  and  happiness,  even  though  we  have  never 
parsed  a  single  sentence,  determined  the  family  and 

140 


THE   INDIAN   AND   EDUCATION 

Latin  name  of  a  single  flower,  or  found  out  the  solution 
of  one  solitary  problem  of  algebra. 

4.  My  fourth  proposition  is,  that  as  the  result  of 
this  indoor  book-teaching  our  children  are  not  taught 
to  think  for  themselves,  but  are  expected  and  required 
to  accept  the  ideas  of  the  authors,  —  often,  indeed,  they 
must  memorize  the  exact  words  of  the  books.  This 
is,  in  itself,  enough  to  condemn  the  whole  system. 
We  could  better  afford  to  have  absolutely  no  schools, 
no  colleges,  no  books  even,  than  a  nation  professedly 
educated,  yet  the  members  of  which  have  not  learned 
to  do  their  own  thinking. 

5.  As  a  conclusion,  therefore,  I  am  forced  to  recog- 
nize that,  in  a  much  larger  measure  than  we  are  ready 
to  admit,  our  educational  system  is  superficial,  is  a 
cramming  process  instead  of  a  draw^ing-out  - —  educere, 
educational  —  process,  and  no  education  so-called 
can  be  really  effective,  really  helpful,  that  thus  inverts 
the  natural  requirements  of  the  mind.  And  that, 
when  our  system  ignores  the  physical  health  of  the 
student,  no  matter  what  his  age,  it  is  a  criminal,  a 
wicked,  a  wasteful  system  that  had  better  speedily 
be  reformed  or  abolished. 

All  these  ideas  are  practically  the  result  of  my 
association  with  the  Indian  and  watching  his  methods 
of  instruction.  His  life  and  that  of  his  family  out  of 
doors  color  all  that  he  and  they  learn.  I  think  it  was 
John  Brisbane  Walker  wdio  once  wrote  a  story,  when 
he  edited  and  owned  the  Cosmopolitan,  about  some 
college  men,  thoroughly  educated  in  the  academic 
sense,  who  w^ere  shipwrecked  at  sea.  He  showed  the 
helplessness  and  hopelessness  of  their  case  because 
of  their  inability  to  take  hold  and  do  things.  The 
Indian  can   turn   his   hand    to    anything.     When    out 

141 


THE   INDIAN   AND   EDUCATION 

of  doors  few  things  can  feaze  him.  lie  knows  how 
to  build  a  fire  in  the  rain,  wliere  to  sleej)  in  a  storm, 
how  to  track  a  runaway  animal,  how  to  trap  fish, 
flesli,  or  fowl,  where  to  look  for  seeds,  nuts,  berries, 
or  roots,  how  to  hobble  a  horse  when  lie  has  no  rope,  — 
that  is,  how  to  make  a  rope  from  cactus  thongs,  how 
to  picket  a  horse  where  there  is  no  tree,  bush,  fence, 
bowlder,  nor  anything  to  which  to  tie  it.  What  college 
man  knows  how  to  picket  a  horse  to  a  hole  in  the 
ground  ?  Yet  I  have  seen  an  Indian  do  it,  and  have 
done  it  myself  several  times.*  He  knows  how  to  find 
water  when  there  is  none  in  sight  and  the  educated 
wdiite  man  is  perishing  for  want  of  it,  and  he  knows  a 
thousand  and  one  things  that  a  white  man  never  knows. 

As  I  shall  show  in  the  chapter  on  the  Indian  and 
art  work,  the  Indian  basket-weaver  far  surpasses  the 
w^iite  w^oman  of  college  education  in  invention  of  art- 
form,  artistic  design,  variety  of  stitch  or  weave,  color 
harmonies,  and  digital  dexterity,  or  ability  to  compel 
the  fingers  and  hands  to  obey  the  dictates  of  the  brain. 

Education  is  by  no  means  a  matter  of  book-learning. 
It  is  a  discipline  of  the  eye,  the  hand,  the  muscles,  the 
nerves,  the  whole  body,  to  obey  the  dictates  of  the 
highest  judgment,  to  the  end  that  the  best  life,  the 
happiest,  the  healthiest,  and  the  most  useful,  may  be 
attained,  and  if  this  definition  be  at  all  a  true  one  I 
am  fully  satisfied  that  if  we  injected  into  our  methods 
of  civilized  education  a  solution  of  three-fifths  of 
Indian  methods  we  should  give  to  our  race  an  immeas- 
urably greater  happiness,  greater  health,  and  greater 
usefulness. 

*See  "Indians  of  the  Painted  Desert  Region,"  Little,  Brown,  &  Company, 
p.l5. 


142 


CHAPTER    XII 

THE   INDIAN  AND   HOSPITALITY 

A  NOTHER  of  the  things  I  think  we  might  well  learn 
-^^  from  the  Indian  is  his  kind  of  hospitality.     Too 
often  in  our  so-called  civilization  hospitality  degener- 
ates  into   a   kind 
of      extravagant , 
wasteful,     injuri- 
ous    ostentation. 
I  do   not   object, 
on    formal    occa- 
sions, to  cere- 


THE    NAVAHO    INDIAN     EXPECTS    YOU    TO    PARTAKE    OF    HIS    SIMPLE 
DESERT    HOSPITALITY. 


monial  hospitality,  to  an  elaborate  spread  and  all  that 
goes  with  it.  But  in  our  every-day  homes,  when  our 
friends  call  upon  us  for  a  meal  or  a  visit  of  a  week,  it  is 
not  true  hospitality  to  let  them  feel  that  we  are  over- 
working ourselves  in  order  to  overfeed  and  entertain 

143 


THE   INDIAN   AND   HOSPITALITY 

them.  When  one  has  plenty  of  servants,  the  ovenvork 
may  perhaps  not  be  felt,  but  the  pre])aration  and  pre- 
sentation of  "extra  fine"  meals  should  be  looked  upon 
as  an  unmitigated  evil  that  ought  to  cease. 

Why  is  it  that  the  professional  lecturers,  singers, 
and  public  performers  generally  refuse  to  accept  such 
hospitalities  ?  Every  one  doing  their  kind  of  work 
knows  the  reason.  It  is  because  this  "high  feeding" 
unfits  them  for  the  right  discharge  of  their  duties.     To 


IN    THE    HOME    OF    A    HOSPITABLE    NAVAIIO    AT   TOHATCHI. 


overfeed  a  preacher  (and  I  've  been  a  preacher  for  many 
years)  is  to  prevent  the  easy  flow  of  his  thought.  It  is 
as  true  now  as  when  W^ordsworth  wrote  it,  that  "plain 
living  and  high  thinking"  go  together.  For  the  past 
five  weeks  I  have  been  lecturing  nightly  in  New  York 
City.  I  am  often  invited  to  dinners  and  banquets,  but 
I  invariably  refuse  unless  I  am  promised  that  a  full 
supply  of  fruit,  nuts,  celery,  and  bread  and  butter,  or 
foods  of  that  nature  are  provided  for  me,  and  that  I 
am  not  even  asked  to  eat  anything  else.     I  don't  even 

144 


THE   INDIAN    AND   HOSPITALITY 

want  the  mental  effort  of  being  compelled  to  refuse  to 
eat  what  I  know  will  render  my  brain  "logy,"  heavy, 
and  dull. 

Then,  again,  when  I  am  invited  to  a  home  where 
no  servants  are  kept  (as  I  often  am),  and  see  the  hostess 
worrying  and  wearying  herself  to  prepare  a  great  variety 
of  "dainties"  and  "fine  foods"  for  me  that  I  know  I 
am  far  better  without,  what  kind  of  creature  am  I  if 
I  can  accept  such  hospitality  with  equanimity  ?  I  go 
to  see  people  to  enjoy  them,  their  kindness,  their  intel- 
lectual converse,  the  homelikeness  of  themselves  and 
their  children.  If  I  want  to  "stuff  and  gorge"  I  can 
do  so  at  any  first-class  restaurant  on  the  expenditure 
of  a  certain  sum  of  money.  But  at  the  homes  of  my 
friends  I  want  them;  I  go  for  social  intercourse;  and 
to  see  them  working  and  slaving  to  give  me  food  that 
is  an  injury  to  me  is  not,  never  can  be,  my  idea  of 
hospitality,  I  would  not  have  my  readers  infer  from 
this  that  I  am  unmindful  of  the  kindly  spirit  of  hos- 
pitality behind  all  of  this  needless  preparation;  nor 
would  I  have  them  think  that  I  never  eat  luxurious 
things,  I  am  afraid  some  of  my  readers  would  forego 
their  kind  thoughts  towards  me  if  they  were  to  see  me 
sometimes  as  I  indulge  in  all  kinds  of  things  that 
"ordinary  people"  eat.  But  I  do  want  to  protest 
against  the  ostentatious  and  extravagant  manifestation 
of  our  hospitality,  and  also  the  injuriousness  of  much 
of  it  when  it  comes  to  the  food  question,  and  to  com- 
mend the  spirit  and  method  of  the  Indian's  way.  If 
friends  come  unexpectedly  to  an  Indian  home,  they 
are  expected  to  make  themselves  at  home.  They  are 
not  invited  to  the  "festive  board"  to  eat,  but  they  are 
expected  to  share  in  the  meal  as  a  matter  of  course. 
Hospitality  is  not  a  thing  of  invitation,  whim,  or  caprice, 

145 


THE   INDIAN   AND    HOSPITALITY 

It  is  the  daily  expression  of  their  Hves.  Every  one, 
friend  or  stranger,  eoniing  to  their  camp  at  meal  times 
is  for  the  time  being  a  member  of  the  family.  There 
is  no  display,  no  ostentation,  no  show,  no  extra  prepara- 
tion. "You  are  one  of  us.  Come  and  partake  of  what 
there  is!"  is  the  spirit  they  manifest.  There  is  nothing 
more  beautiful  to  me  than  to  find  myself  at  a  Navaho 
ho(jan  in  the  heart  of  the  Painted  Desert,  and  to  realize 


HOPI    INDIANA    COOKING    CORN 
IN   AN   UNDERGROUND   OVEN. 


that  I  am  expected  to  sit  down  and  eat  of  the  frugal 
meal  which  the  family  has  prepared  for  itself. 

My  contention  is,  that  this  is  the  true  spirit  of  hos- 
pitality. You  are  made  to  feel  at  home.  You  are 
one  of  the  family.  Formality  is  dispensed  with;  you 
are  welcomed  heartily  and  sincerely,  and  made  to 
feel  at  ease.  This  is  "to  be  at  home";  this  is  the 
friendly,  the  human,  the  humane  thing  to  do.  Unneces- 
sary work  is  avoided;  the  visitor  is  not  distressed  by 
seeing  his  hostess  made  to  do  a  lot  of  extra  cooking 
and  "fussing"  on  his  account;  his  heart  is  warmed 
by  the  friendliness  displayed    (and   surely  that  is  far 

146 


THE   INDIAN   AND   HOSPITALITY 

better  than  merely  to  have  his  stomach  filled);  and, 
furthermore,  if  he  be  a  thoughtful  man  who  values 
health  and  vigor  rather  than  the  gratification  of  his 
appetite,  he  is  saved  the  mortification  and  the  annoy- 
ance of  having  to  choose  between  the  risk  of  offending 
his  hostess  by  refusing  to  eat  the  luxurious  "obnoxities" 


MOHAVE    WOMAN    POUNDING    MESQUITE    TO    PROVinE    A    DRINK    FOR    HER 

GUEST. 


she  has  provided,  or  offending  himself  by  eating  them 
under  protest,  and  possibly  suffering  from  them  after- 
ward. 

I  was  once  visiting  the  Mohave  reservation,  at 
Parker,  on  the  Colorado  River.  It  was  a  very  hot 
day,  and  I  was  thirsty,  weary,  and  hot.  As  soon  as  I 
arrived  at  the  home  of  one  old  lady,  she  at  once  went 

147 


THE   INDIAN   AND   HOSPITALITY 

out  of  doors  to  her  wooden  mortar,  took  some  mesquite 
beans,  pounded  them,  poured  water  over  the  flour 
thus  made,  and  in  a  few  minutes  presented  me  with  a 
copious  drink  that  was  both  pleasing  to  the  taste  and 
refreshing.  Look  at  her  face  as  she  kneels  before 
the  mortar.  It  is  a  kindly  and  generous  face.  She 
cared  nothing  for  the  fact  that  it  was  liot,  or  that  it 
was  hard  work  to  lift  the  pounder  and  make  the  meal 
for  the  drink.  She  did  it  so  simply  and  easily  and 
naturally  that  I  accepted  the  drink  with  the  added 
pleasure  that  it  was  the  product  of  a  real,  and  not  an 
artificial,   hospitality. 

Few  visitors  to  the  Snake  Dance  and  the  different 
religious  or  thanksgiving  festivals  of  the  Indians  of  the 
Southwest  have  failed  to  observe  the  great  amount  of 
preparation  that  goes  on  for  expected  but  unknown 
guests.  It  is  known  they  will  come;  therefore  prepara- 
tions must  be  made  for  them.  Corn  is  ground  in  the 
metates,  and  piki  is  made. 

An  old  Navaho  Indian,  pictured  on  the  first  page, 
is  a  wonderful  illustration  of  the  natural  generosity  of 
the  aborigine  before  he  is  spoiled  by  contact  with  the 
white.  Many  years  ago  this  man,  who  had  large 
possessions  of  stock,  sheep,  horses,  and  goats,  with 
much  grazing  land,  and  several  fine  springs,  was  riding 
on  the  jjlateau  opposite  where  the  Paria  Creek  empties 
into  the  Colorado  River.  Suddenly  he  heard  shouts 
and  screams,  and  rushing  down  to  the  water  saw  a 
raft  filled  with  men,  women,  and  children,  dashing 
down  the  river  to  the  rapids.  When  the  raft  and  its 
human  freight  were  overturned  into  the  icy  waters  he 
did  not  hesitate  because  the  people  were  of  a  different 
color  from  his  own,  but,  plunging  in,  he  rescued  all 
those  who  were  unable  to  save  themselves,  mainly  by 

148 


THE   INDIAN  AND   HOSPITALITY 

his  own  valor.  It  turned  out  that  the  strangers  were 
a  band  of  Mormons  seeking  a  new  home  in  Arizona, 
and,  being  met  by  the  barrier  of  the  Colorado  River, 
had  sought  to  cross  it  with  their  worldly  goods  upon 
the  insecure  and  unsafe  raft. 

What  could  they  now  do.^  Though  their  lives 
were  saved,  their  provisions  were  nearly  all  lost  in  the 
raging  rapids  of  the  turbulent  and  angry  Colorado. 
Bidding  them  be  of  good  cheer,  this  savage  Indian  led 
them  to  one  of  his  hogans,  where  immediately  he  set  his 
several  wives  (for  the  Navahos  are  polygamists)  to 
grinding  corn  and  making  large  quantities  of  mush 
for  the  half -famished  white  strangers.  He  thus  fed 
them,  daily,  for  months.  In  the  mean  time,  he  allowed 
them  to  plant  crops  (he  finding  seed)  on  his  land, 
using  for  irrigation  therefor  water  from  his  springs. 

But  he  had  not  given  himself  proper  care  after  his 
icy  bath.  His  legs  became  drawn  up  by  rheumatism, 
and  from  that  day  to  this  he  has  been  a  constant  sufferer 
from  his  exposure  to  the  cold  water  of  the  river  and  his 
after-neglect  caused  by  his  eager  desire  to  care  for 
unknown  strangers. 

The  awful  irony  of  the  whole  thing  lies  in  the  fact 
that  in  spite  of  what  he  had  done,  the  recipients  of  his 
pure,  simple,  beautiful  hospitality  could  not,  or  did 
not,  appreciate  it.  He  was  "only  an  Indian."  He 
had  no  rights.  They  were  American  citizens,  —  white 
people;  civilized  people.  Why  should  this  Indian 
own  or  control  all  this  fine  land,  all  these  flowing 
springs,  all  these  growing  crops  ?  It  was  wrong, 
infamous,  inappropriate.  Therefore,  to  make  matters 
right,  these  grateful  (?)  civilized  (!  !)  Mormons  stole 
from  him  the  best  part  of  his  lands,  and  the  largest 
of  his  springs,  and  for  years  laughed  at  his  protests; 

149 


THE   INDIAN   AND   HOSPITALITY 

until  finally  a  white  friend  was  raised  up  for  him  in  a 
brave  United  States  Army  officer,  now  a  general  in 
the  Philippines,  I  believe,  who  presented  the  case  of 
the  Indian  to  the  courts,  fought  it  successfully,  and 
lived  to  see  the  Indian's  wrongs  in  some  small  measure 
righted. 

To  this  day  the  Indian  is  known  as  "Old  Musha," 
the  name  given  to  him  by  the  people  whom  he  be- 
friended in  their  distress,  because  mush  was  the  chief 
article  of  the  diet  that  his  hospitality  provided  for  them. 
Truly  did  Shakspere  write: — 

"Blow,  blow,  thou  winter  wind, 
Thou  art  not  so  unkind 
As  man's  ingratitude!" 

That  Indians  know  how  to  be  beautifully  court- 
eous to  their  guests,  I  have  long  experienced.  I  have 
eaten  at  banquets  at  Delmonico's  and  the  Waldorf- 
Astoria  (New  York),  the  Hotel  Cecil  (London),  the 
Grand  Hotel  (Paris),  and  many  and  various  hotels 
between  the  Touraine  (Boston)  and  the  Palace  of  San 
Francisco  and  the  Hotel  del  Coronado.  And  I  have 
seen  more  vulgarity  and  ill-breeding  at  these  choice 
and  elaborate  banquets,  more  want  of  consideration, 
more  selfishness,  and  more  disgusting  exhibitions  of 
greediness  and  gluttony  than  I  have  seen  in  twenty-five 
years  of  close  association  with  Indians. 

I  was  once  expected  to  eat  at  an  Indian  chief's 
hawa,  or  house.  The  chief  dish  was  corn,  cut  from 
the  cob  while  in  the  milk,  ground,  and  then  made  into  a 
kind  of  soup  or  mush.  A  clean  basketful  was  handed 
to  me,  with  the  intimation  that  I  was  to  share  it  with 
tAvo  old  Indians,  one  on  my  right,  one  on  my  left.  I 
asked  my  hostess  for  a  spoon,  for  I  knew  I  had  seen 

150 


THE   INDIAN   AND   HOSPITALITY 

one  somewhere  on  one  of  my  visits.  She  hunted  for 
the  spoon,  in  the  meantime  sending  to  the  creek  for  an 
esuwa  of  fresh,  clean  water.  When  it  was  brought, 
she  carefully  washed  her  hands  and  then  gave  the 
spoon  seven  scrubbings  and  washings  and  rinsings 
before  she  handed  it  to  me.  I  felt  safer  in  using  it 
than  I  do  many  a  time  at  a  city  restaurant  when  the 
"culled  brother"  brings  me  a  spoon  that  he  has  wiped 
on  the  "towel"  which  performs  the  multifarious 
duties  of  wiping  the  soiled  table,  the  supposedly  clean 
dishes,  the  waiter's  sweaty  hands,  and  —  far  oftener 
than  people  imagine  —  the  waiter's  sweaty  face. 

During  the  time  we  were  waiting  for  the  spoon  the 
old  Indians  by  my  side  sat  as  patiently  and  stoically 
as  if  they  were  not  hungry.  When  the  spoon  was 
handed  to  me,  I  marked  a  half  circle  on  the  mush  in 
front  of  me,  in  the  basket,  then  divided  the  remainder 
for  them.  Each  waited  until  I  had  eaten  several 
mouthfuls  before  he  inserted  his  own  fingers,  which 
served  as  his  spoon,  and  then  we  democratically  ate 
together. 

Now,  to  me  the  whole  affair  showed  a  kindly  con- 
sideration for  my  feelings  that  is  not  always  apparent  in 
so-called  well-bred  strangers  of  my  own  race.  I  've 
had  many  a  man  light  a  cigar  or  a  cigarette  at  a  table 
at  which  I  've  been  compelled  to  sit  in  a  restaurant  with 
never  a  "By  your  leave!"  or  "Is  this  agreeable.?" 
From  the  Indian  we  imagine  that  we  ought  not  to  expect 
much  of  what  we  call  "higher  courtesy,"  yet  I  find 
it  constantly  exercised;  while  from  the  civilized  white 
race  we  expect  much,  and,  alas!  often  are  very  much 
disappointed. 

It  is  a  singular  thing  that  while  I  am  writing  these 
pages  about  the  lessons  we  may  learn  from  the  Indian, 

151 


THH    INDIAN   AND    HOSPITALITY 

tlie  liislioj)  of  Loiuloii,  speaking  in  Trinity  Cliurch, 
New  York,  in  September,  1907,  should  enunciate  ideas 
remarkably  similar  to  those  held  by  the  Indians,  The 
Indian  owns  nothing  for  himself:  it  belongs  to  all  his 
tril)e.  What  is  this  but  the  stewardshi})  —  in  a  rude 
and  crude  fashion  ])erliaps,  but  uevertheless  steward- 
ship—  as  declared  })y  the  bishoj),  who  says: 

"The  one  sentence,  which  above  all  others  I  would 
say  to  you,  a  sentence  as  yet  unlearned  in  London 
and  New  York,  and  which  if  adopted  would  cleanse 
the  life  on  both  sides  of  the  Atlantic  is  —  life  is  a 
stewardship,  and  not  an  ownership. 

"Have  you  ever  thought  why  there  are  any  rich 
and  })oor  at  all  ?  That  is  the  question  I  had  to  face  in 
London.  They  had  asked  me  how  I  reconciled  my 
belief  in  the  good  God  loving  all  His  children,  with  the 
wretched  millions  in  East  London,  seemingly  aban- 
doned by  both  God  and  man.  I  had  to  face  that  cjues- 
tion,  and  I  have  had  to  face  it  ever  since.  There  is 
but  one  answer  —  the  rich  minority  have  what  they 
have  merely  in  trust  for  all  the  others.  Stewardship, 
non-ownership,  is  God's  command  to  all  of  us. 

"You  are  not  your  own.  Nothing  that  you  have 
is  your  own.  We  haven't  learned  the  Christian  religion 
if  we  have  not  learned  the  lesson  of  stewardship. 

"  My  home  has  been  the  home  of  the  Bishop  of 
London  for  1,300  years.  Sup])Ose  I  should  say  that 
it  was  my  own,  and  that  the  Bishop's  income  of  $50,000 
a  year  was  my  own.  I  would  be  called  a  madman. 
The  man  who  thinks  he  owns  what  he  has  in  his  keeping 
is  no  less  a  madman.  This  applies  alike  to  the  boy 
and  his  pocket  money,  and  the  millionaire  and  his 
millions.  Disregard  of  this  trust  is  the  cause  of  all 
the  social  evils  of  London  and  New  York." 

152 


THE   INDIAN   AND   HOSPITALITY 


To  resume  my  experiences  with  the  Indians: 
In  September,  1907,  I  again  visited  the  Havasupais 
and  then  had  several  wonderful  illustrations  of  their 
real  and  genuine  hospitality.  We  decided  to  camp 
below  the  home  of  an  old  friend  of  mine,  Uta.  As 
soon  as  our  cavalcade  of  six  persons  on  horses,  mules, 
and  burros  appeared,  with  two  pack-horses,  he  cor- 
dially welcomed  us,  and  when  I  told  him  that  we  wished 
to  camp  below  his  hawa  he  took  us  into  a  fenced-in 


tr    It  IB  m 


■•-^f 


UTA,    .M\     HO-.lMrAHI.K    HAVASUPAI    FRIEND. 


field,  where  there  were  peach  trees  and  a  corral  for 
our  animals.  Here  we  were  free  from  the  intrusion 
of  all  stray  animals,  and  were  able  to  secure  seclusion 
for  the  ladies  of  our  party  —  for,  of  course,  we  were 
camping  out  and  sleeping  in  the  open.  Knowing 
that  we  should  want  plenty  of  water,  both  for  ourselves 
and  our  animals,  and  that  it  was  quite  a  little  walk  to 
Havasu  Creek,  he  took  his  shovel  and  in  five  minutes 
the  limpid  stream  was  flowing  through  the  irrigation 
ditches  close  by.     The  peach  tree  over  our  heads  — 

153 


THE    INDIAN    AND    HOSPITALITY 


« 


the   best   in    the   an  hole    vilhige  —  was   placed    at   our 

disnosal,  and  delicious  indeed  we  found  the  fruit  to 

he,  and  he  sent  us 
fin's,  beans,  melons, 
and  a  cantelou])e. 
Without  a  question 
as  to  j)ayment,  he 
suj)plied  us  daily 
during  our  stay 
with  an  abundance 
of  dried  alfalfa 
hay,  —  the  fresh 
alfalfa  not  being 
good  for  our  too- 
civilized  animals. 
And  in  every  way 
t  possible  to  him  he 

\  Jfi^'    ^^  ¥         1;-      -  sought  to  minister 

to  our  comfort  and 

!  ^  pleasure,   and  did 

not  resent  it  in  the 
^^im^  slightest    when     I 

^ttlH^H^  bade  him  retire  at 

^^Hr         ^t^  cooking    our    pro- 

^^^tiMtff^       mmM^mmm^mm     visions. 

That    we    paid 

MY    HOPI    HOSTESS    WHO    KEPT    THE    NEIGH-  _  11 

BORHooD  QUIET  WHILE  I  SLEPT.  Him  abuudantly 

when  we  left  did 
not  in  the  slightest  alter  the  sweet  character  of  his 
genuine  and  simple  hospitality. 

Another  illustration  of  the  most  beautiful  kind  of 
hospitality    and    courteous    kindness    was    shown    by 

154 


THE   INDIAN   AND   HOSPITALITY 

an  old  Hopi  Indian  woman  pictured.  I  was  visiting 
the  Hopi  pueblo  of  Walpi  for  the  purpose  of  studying 
the  secret  ceremonies  of  the  underground  kivas  of  the 
Antelope  and  Snake  clans  prior  to  the  Snake  Dance. 
For  fifteen  days  and  nights  I  never  took  off  my  clothes 
to  go  to  bed,  but  went  from  kiva  to  kiva,  witnessing 
the  ceremonials,  and  when  I  was  too  tired  to  remain 
awake  longer,  I  would  stretch  out  on  the  bare,  solid 
rock  floor,  my  camera  or  my  canteen  for  my  pillow, 
and  go  to  sleep.  Occasionally,  however,  when  some- 
thing of  minor  importance  was  going  on  during  the 
daytime,  I  would  steal  upstairs  to  a  room  which  I 
had  engaged  in  this  woman's  house.  As  soon  as  I 
stretched  out  and  tried  to  sleep,  she  went  around  to 
the  children  and  the  neighbors  and  told  them  that  the 
*' Black  Bear" — my  name  with  these  people  —  was 
trying  to  sleep,  and  was  very,  very  tired.  That  was 
all  that  was  necessary  to  send  the  children  far  enough 
away  so  that  the  noise  of  their  play  could  not  disturb 
me,  and  to  quiet  any  unnecessary  noise  among  their 
elders.  This  I  take  to  be  an  extreme  courtesy.  I 
know  people  of  both  "low  and  high  degree"  in  our 
civilization  who  resent  as  an  impertinent  interference 
with  their  "rights"  any  suggestions  that  they  be  kind 
or  quiet  to  their  neighbors,  —  much  less  strangers  and 
aliens.  But  for  my  own  sake  I  would  far  rather  that 
my  children  possessed  the  kindly  sympathy  shown  by 
these  Indian  children  than  have  the  finest  education 
the  greatest  university  of  our  civilization  could  grant 
without  it. 


155 


CHAPTER  XTTI 

THE  INDIAN  AND  CEiriAIX   S()(  lAL  TKAITS  AND 

CUSTOMS 

TN  the  treatment  of  younger  children  by  tliose  wlio 
'^  are  older,  the  white  race  may  learn  much  from  the 
Indian.  While  it  must  be  confessed  that  Indian  youth 
are  cruel  to  the  lower  animals,  I  have  never  seen,  in 
twenty-five  years,  an  older  child  ill-treat  a  younger 
one.  There  seems  to  be  an  instinctive  "mothering" 
of  the  little  ones.  The  houses  of  the  Hopis  are  built 
on  the  edges  of  frightful  precipices,  to  fall  from  which 
would  be  sure  and  certain  death;  yet,  although  the 
youngsters  are  allowed  to  play  around  with  the  greatest 
freedom,  such  are  the  care  and  constant  oversight  of  the 
little  ones  by  those  who  are  older  that  I  have  never 
known  of  an  accident. 

There  seems  to  be  none  of  that  impatient  petulance 
among  Indian  children  that  is  so  common  with  us; 
no  yelling  or  loud  shouting,  and  certainly  no  bullying 
or  cowardly  domineering. 

Then,  too,  there  is  a  very  sweet  and  tender  relation- 
ship existing  quite  often  between  the  very  old  and 
the  very  young.  I  know  this  is  not  unusual  or  peculiar 
to  the  Indian,  but  I  deem  it  worthy  of  note  here.  I 
have  often  seen  a  grandfather  going  off  to  his  work 
for  the  day  in  a  corn-field  with  his  naked  grandson  on 
his  back,  and  the  youngster  clung  to  the  oldster  with 
an  affection  <nnd  confidence  that  were  absolute. 

It  should  also  be  observed  that  respect  and  reverence 
are  nearly  always  paid  to  age.     In  a  council  the  young 

156 


AN   APACHE   GRANDMOTHEH   AND    HER   PET. 


CERTAIN    SOCIAL    TRAITS    AND    CUSTOMS 

men  will  invariably  wait  until  the  old  men  have  spoken, 
unless  they  are  definitely  ealled  upon.  If  a  eigarette 
is  offered  to  a  young  man  in  the  presenee  of  his  elders, 
he  will  not  enjoy  it  until  the  older  ones  have  lit  theirs 
and  taken  a  few  puffs.  A  girl  or  young  maiden  will 
not  sit  down  until  ])laees  are  found  for  the  older  ones 
and  they  are  comfortably  seated,  and,  of  course,  the 
same  rule  applies  to  the  boys  and  youths. 

It  may  also  seem  strange  to  some  of  my  readers 
that  I  insist  that  the  native  Indian  is  inherently  honest. 
I  did  not  use  to  think  so,  and  I  know  of  many  dishonest 
Indians.  But  as  a  rule  these  are  the  ones  that  are 
partially  civilized.  They  have  had  so  many  things 
given  to  them  without  rhyme  or  reason  that  they  come 
to  regard  all  things  of  the  white  men  as  theirs.  Scores 
of  times  I  have  left  my  wagon,  laden  with  provisions 
and  other  materials,  such  as  cameras,  camera  plates, 
clothes,  etc.,  and  I  have  been  gone  for  a  week  or  a  month. 
As  I  now  write  I  can  remember  only  twice  that  anything 
was  taken.  Once  a  young  man,  who  had  been  to  our 
schools,  broke  into  a  box  of  oranges  that  I  had  taken 
as  a  great  luxury  after  a  desert  tramp,  and  ate  several 
of  them.  I  soon  learned  who  the  culprit  was,  made 
complaint  against  him,  had  him  brought  to  my  camp, 
and  asked  him  why  he  stole  my  oranges.  It  must  be 
remembered  that  it  is  an  unwritten,  but  well-under- 
stood, law  of  the  desert  regions  that  a  truly  hung.y 
man  is  always  allowed  to  help  himself  to  needful  food, 
but  without  waste  or  extravagance,  and  with  due  care 
for  the  owner  or  those  who  may  come  after. 

This  young  man  claimed  that  he  had  taken  my 
oranges  because  he  was  hungry,  I  gave  him  the  lie 
direct;  for,  said  I,  "Had  you  been  hungry,  you  would 
have  been  willing  to  eat  meat  and  potatoes  and  bread. 

158 


CERTAIN    SOCIAL    TRAITS    AND    CUSTOMS 

Instead  of  that  you  went  prowling  around  until  you 
smelled  these  oranges  and  then  you  stole  them.  In 
future,  even  if  you  are  hungry,  you  must  keep  away 
from  my  wagon  and  camp,  for  if  ever  you  touch  my 
things  again,  I  shall  see  that  you  are  severely  punished/' 
It  was  a  stern  reprimand,  yet  in  this  case  it  seemed  to 
be  necessary. 

The  other  time  that  things  were  taken  from  me 
was  when  I  had  promised  certain  women  and  girls 
some  calico  and  bead  necklaces  in  return  for  something 
they  had  done  for  me.  Foolishly  I  showed  them  the 
bag  in  which  the  calico  was.  My  hostess  was  also 
to  be  a  participant  in  the  distribution  of  favors.  While 
I  was  away  on  a  several  days'  exploring  trip  she  took 
it  into  her  head  that  she  ought  to  have  the  first  choice, 
and,  as  I  had  promised  the  piece  to  her,  there  would 
be  no  harm  in  taking  it.  When  she  had  made  her 
own  choice,  and  told  of  it,  of  course  she  could  not 
protest  against  the  others  making  theirs,  so,  when  I 
returned  to  my  Indian  home  I  found  the  bag  pretty  well 
looted.  It  was  not  long  before,  little  by  little,  the 
whole  story  leaked  out.  When  I  was  sure,  I  told  my 
host,  and  informed  him  that  I  wanted  every  piece  of 
calico  and  every  necklace  returned  instanter.  In 
twelve  hours  everything  was  back  in  place,  as  if  by 
magic.  Then  for  several  days  I  kept  the  promised 
recipients  in  a  "state,"  for  I  intimated  that  their  con- 
duct was  so  reprehensible  that  I  doubted  whether  I 
should  give  them  anything  or  not.  This  made  them 
very  anxious,  and  when  they  "dropped  in,"  two  or 
three  at  a  time,  I  took  the  occasion  to  tell  them  how  I 
resented  their  helping  themselves  to  my  things  while 
I  was  absent. 

With   these   two    exceptions,    in    twenty-five   years' 

159 


CERTAIN    SOCIAL    TRAITS    AND    CUSTOMS 

experience  I  have  met  with  iiotliiiij!;  l)ut  ])erfec*t  lionesty. 
(No,  now  I  remember,  a  small  whip  was  taken  from 
my  camp  many  years  ago,  but  Avhen  I  complained,  it 
was  found  and  returned.)  I  have  left  camera  plates 
by  the  score  in  boxes  that  could  have  been  opened,  and 
the  results  of  my  months  of  labor  destroyed  by  nothing 
but  idle  curiosity.  Rut  when  I  have  ex])laine(l  that  I 
was  going  away  and  expected  to  find  everything  un- 
touched on  my  return,  I  had  no  fear,  no  misgivings, 
and  invariably  found  everything  in  })erfect  order  when 
I  came  back.  I  doubt  whether  1  could  leave  things 
where  the  whole  population  of  any  of  our  American 
cities  could  get  at  them  and  find  them  untouched  after 
a  week's  or  a  month's  absence. 

Another  interesting  fact  about  the  Indian  is  that 
when  he  gives  a  name  to  a  child  or  an  adult,  it  generally 
means  something.  Among  ourselves  names  are  often- 
times either  quite  meaningless  or  senseless.  For 
instance,  my  parents  gave  to  me  the  name  George. 
When  I  was  old  enough  to  begin  to  care  about  such 
things,  I  asked  and  found  out  that  "George"  means 
"a  husbandman."  And  all  through  my  life  I  have 
borne  that  name  —  a  husbandman  —  when  my  ignor- 
ance of  agricultural  pursuits,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  is  simply 
dense  and  unspeakable.  What  is  the  sense  of  giving 
such  names  to  children  ?  And  when  we  come  to  the 
Algernons,  and  Reginas,  and  Sigourneys,  and  Fitz- 
maurices,  and  all  the  high-sounding  but  altogether 
meaningless  names  with  which  we  burden  our  children, 
I  long  for  the  simplicity  of  the  Indian's  habit,  the 
poetry,  the  prayer,  that  so  often  are  connected  with 
the  names  they  give.  The  old  Hebrews  knew  some- 
thing of  this,  for  we  read  of  many  of  their  names  having 
a  definite  and  decided  significance. 

160 


CERTAIN    SOCIAL   TRAITS    AND    CUSTOMS 

One  day  I  found  a  Chemehuevi  Indian  with  the 
name  Tow-um-bow-i-si-co-rum.  After  a  little  working 
of  it  out,  I  found  the  name  signified:  "The  reddish 
golden  pathway  of  glory  made  by  the  setting  sun  from 
the  zenith  to  the  horizon."  I  asked  the  man's  mother 
how  he  came  to  have  such  a  name,  and  here  is  her 
reply!  "As  I  gave  birth  to  my  son,  I  looked  up  in  the 
heavens  and  there  I  saw  the  golden  reddish  glory 
reaching  from  above  where  I  lay  to  the  faraway  west, 
where  the  sun  was  just  setting.  So  I  said,  'It  is  an  omen, 
and  may  it  also  be  a  prophecy, '  and  my  heart  went  out 
in  prayer  to  Those  Above,  that  the  pathway  of  life  of 
my  newly-born  son  might  be  one  of  golden  glory  until 
he,  too,  passed  out  of  sight  in  the  west;  so  I  called 
him  Towumbowisicorum,  which  signifies  what  I  have 
said." 


101 


CHAPTER    XTV 
THE   INDIAN  AND   SOME   LUXURIES 

IV/fOST  city  iiRMi  regard  a  shampoo  as  a  city  luxury  of 
-^  -*■  luodcru  times,  except,  of  course,  for  the  rich,  who 
could  always  have  what  they  desire.  Yet  the  shampoo 
is  more  common  with  some  Indians  than  with  us,  and 
they  enjoy  it  oftener  than  we  do.  The  Indian's  wife 
takes  the  root  of  the  amole,  macerates  it,  and  then  beats 
it  up  and  down  in  a  bowl  of  w  ater  until  a  most  delicious 
and  soft  lather  results,  and  then  her  liege  lord  stoops 
over  the  bowl  and  she  shampoos  his  long  hair  and 
scalp  with  vigor,  neatness,  skill,  and  dispatch.  I  have 
been  operated  upon  by  the  best  adepts  in  London, 
Paris,  and  New  York,  and  I  truthfully  affirm  that  a 
white  man  has  much  to  learn  in  the  way  of  skillful 
manipulation,  effective  rubbing  of  the  scalp,  and 
delicious  silkiness  of  the  hair,  if  he  knows  no  other 
than  such  shampooing  as  I  received. 

Another  so-called  luxury  of  our  civilization  is  an 
every-day  matter  with  the  Indians  of  the  Southwest. 
That  is  the  Russo-Turkish  bath.  The  first  time  I 
enjoyed  this  luxury  with  the  Indians  was  on  one  of  my 
visits  to  the  Havasupai  tribe.  I  had  been  received 
into  membershi])  in  the  tribe  several  years  before,  but 
had  always  felt  a  delicacy  about  asking  to  be  invited 
to  participate  in  this  function.  But  one  day  I  said  to 
the  old  Medicine  INIan,  as  he  was  going  down  to  tohohvoh, 
"How  is  it  you  have  never  invited  me  to  go  into  toJi- 
olwoh  with  you  ?  "  INIy  question  sur])rised  him.  He 
quickly  answered,  "Why  should   I   invite  you  to  your 

162 


THE   INDIAN  AND   SOME   LUXURIES 

own  ?  The  sweat-bath  is  as  much  yours  as  it  is  mine." 
"Then,"  said  I,  "I  will  go  with  you  now." 

The  "bath-house"  consisted  of  a  small  willow 
frame,  some  six  or  eight  feet  in  diameter,  which,  at 
the  time  of  using,  is  covered  over  with  Navaho  blankets, 
etc.,  to  make  it  heat  and  steam  proof.  A  bed  of  clean 
willows  was  spread  out  for  the  "sweaters"  to  sit  upon, 
and  a  place  left  vacant  for  the  red-hot  rocks.  As 
soon  as  all  was  prepared  I  was  invited  to  take  my 
seat;  one  Indian  followed  on  one  side  and  the  Medicine 
Man  on  the  other.  Then  one  of  the  outer  Indians 
handed  in  six  or  eight  red-hot  rocks,  and  the  flap  of 
the  cover  was  let  down  and  the  bath  was  fairly  "on." 
Directly  the  shaman  began  to  sing  a  sacred  song  which 
recited  the  fact  that  Toholwoh  was  a  gift  of  the  good 
god,  Tochopa,  and  was  for  the  purpose  of  purifying 
the  body  from  all  evil. 

As  soon  as  the  song  ended,  we  were  all  sweating 
freely,  but  when  the  flap  was  opened,  it  was  not  to  let 
us  out,  but  to  receive  more  hot  rocks.  As  we  sang  a 
second  song  the  heat  grew  more  penetrating,  so  that 
the  words  seemed  to  have  real  meaning.  Our  petition 
was  that  "the  heat  of  Toholwoh  might  enter  our  eyes, 
our  ears,  our  nostrils,  our  mouths,"  etc.,  each  organ 
being  named  at  the  end  of  the  line  of  petition.  The 
song  comprised  a  great  long  string  of  organs,  some  of 
which  I  had  never  heard  of  before.  By  this  time  sweat 
was  pouring  off  from  our  bodies,  but  the  flap  was  opened 
only  to  receive  more  rocks.  At  the  third  time  a  bowl 
of  water  was  handed  in  to  my  companion,  which  I  was 
reaching  for  in  order  to  enjoy  a  drink,  when,  to  my 
horror  and  surprise,  he  sprinkled  the  water  over  the 
red-hot  rocks.  The  result  was  an  instantaneous  cloud 
of  steam,  which  seemed  to  set  my  lips  and  nostrils  on 

163 


A    iMOHAVK    INDIAN     W  KAl'PKlJ    I  i*    1\    lil.S    HAHlilT    SKIN    BLANKET. 


THE  INDIAN   AND   SOME   LUXURIES 

fire  and  absolutely  to  choke  nie  and  prevent  my  breath- 
ing. Yet  the  two  Indians  began  another  song,  so  I 
determined  to  stick  it  out  and  stand  it  as  long  as  I 
could.  Of  course,  in  a  few  moments  the  intense  heat 
of  the  steam  was  lost,  and  then  I  was  able  to  join  in  the 
song.  At  its  close  the  same  process  of  steaming  was 
repeated,  and  then  I  sprang  out  and  dived  headlong 
into  the  cool  (not  cold)  waters  of  the  flowing  Ilavasu, 
where  for  a  long  time  I  swam  and  enjoyed  the  delicious 
sensations  with  which  my  body  was  filled.  Then, 
after  a  rub  down  with  clean,  clear,  clayey  mud,  and 
another  plunge,  I  lay  in  the  sun  on  a  bed  of  willows, 
listening  to  the  Indians  tell  stories,  and  I  can  truthfully 
say  I  never  felt  so  clean  in  my  life. 

This  bath  is  taken  by  thousands  of  the  Southwest 
Indians  once  a  week  as  a  matter  of  religion,  so  that,  as 
a  fact,  while  their  clothes  are  ragged  and  dirty,  and 
they  themselves  appear  to  be  dirty,  they  are  really  clean. 
It  must  be  confessed,  on  the  other  hand,  that  too  many 
Americans  value  the  appearance  of  cleanliness  more 
than  the  reality.  They  would  far  rather  appear  clean 
even  if  they  were  not  than  be  clean  and  appear  dirty. 
It  is  better  to  combine  both  reality  and  appearance, 
but,  for  my  own  sake,  if  I  had  to  choose  between  the 
two,  I  believe  I  would  rather  be  clean  than  only  ajjjwar 
clean. 

Civilized  man,  for  centuries,  has  used  hot  baths 
of  various  kinds  for  remedial  and  healing  purposes. 
Throughout  the  world,  wherever  hot  springs  are  found, 
men  and  women  congregate  in  large  numbers,  palatial 
hotels  are  built,  bath-houses  established,  and  an  army 
of  hotel-keepers,  physicians,  nurses,  masseurs,  and 
bath  operators  organized.  Some  go  to  the  baths  just 
as  they  do  any  other  fashionable  thing,  or  in  order  to 

165 


THE   INDIAN   AND   SOME   LUXURIES 

min<^lo  with  the  gay  aiul  fashionable  throng.  Other 
idlers  go  ])urely  i'oi"  the  pleasure  they  gain  from  such 
associations,  while  still  others  go  for  the  health  they 
long  for,  —  the  strength  and  vigor  they  have  lost.  And 
there  can  be  no  question  that  they  often  gain  it.  In 
s|)ite  of  the  fashionable  doctors  who  care  less  for  the 
health  of  their  patients  than  they  do  for  their  own 
fame  and  pockets;  in  spite  of  the  physical  ills  that  come 
from  the  altogether  inappropriate  diet  of  the  hotel 
dining-rooms;  in  spite  of  the  excitement  of  balls  and 
parties,  receptions  and  routs,  common  at  such  places; 
and  in  spite  of  the  injurious  influences  of  the  gaming 
tables  too  often  maintained,  the  use  of  the  waters  is 
often  beneficial  to  a  number  of  the  patients.  Were 
they  to  use  the  waters  rationally,  live  hygienically, 
avoid  all  stimulating  foods  and  drinks,  and  religiously 
refrain  from  all  unnatural  excitements,  there  is  no 
question  but  that  the  use  of  the  hot  waters,  the  hot  mud 
packs,  and  the  like,  would  give  health  to  many  thou- 
sands w^ho  now^  derive  but  little  benefit  from  them. 

From  whom  did  the  white  race  learn  the  use  of  the 
hot  bath,  the  mud  bath,  and  the  like.^  He  learned  it 
from  the  Indian,  and  if  he  would  study  the  present 
methods  of  the  Indians  he  would  find  many  details 
connected  with  these  baths  that  he  might  learn  to  his 
great  advantage. 

When  the  Indian  goes  to  the  bath  he  makes  of  it 
an  almost  religious  ceremony.  In  one  of  the  illustra- 
tions an  old  Indian  Shaman  is  telling  to  the  younger 
ones  the  things  they  should  heed  before  going  into  the 
toholwoh,  or  sw^eat  bath,  the  frame  of  which  (as  yet 
uncovered)  is  close  at  hand.  The  hot  waters  that 
bubble  out  from  the  interior  of  the  earth  he  regards  as 
the  special  gifts  of  the  gods.     He  ])rays  that  he  may  not 

166 


THE   INDIAN   AND   SOME   LUXURIES 

use  these  gifts  unworthily.  Just  as  the  Mohammedan 
beheves  that  the  desert  is  the  "Garden  of  Allah"  and 
that  no  one  must  walk  in  it  who  is  sinful  until  he  has 
first  asked  for  forgiveness,  so  does  the  Indian  believe 
that  the  waters  of  healing  will  turn  to  his  injury  if  he 
does  not  use  them  in  the  right  spirit.  Would  it  not  be 
well  if  we  —  the  superior  race  —  approached  this  good 
gift  of  God  in  like  manner.^ 

The  natural  simplicity  of  the  Indian  at  the  baths  also 
offers  a  good  lesson  to  us.     Instead  of  seeking  for  gaiety, 


THE    SHAM  V\      I|;LLING    the    story    OF    THE     I  I  KM      lOHOLWOH. 

frivolity,  fashion,  and  the  means  of  pampering  his 
appetite,  he  goes  to  the  baths  of  nature  resolved  upon 
quiet  and  restfulness  as  far  as  possible.  He  seeks  to 
prepare  his  mind  beforehand,  that  the  physical  means 
used  will  be  beneficial.  In  other  words,  though  he  is 
a  rude,  untutored  savage,  —  so  we  say,  —  he  has  a 
clearer  conception  of  the  effect  the  mind  has  upon  the 
body  in  real,  practical  healing,  than  has  a  large  part 
of  his  civilized  brothers  and  sisters.  As  a  rule,  we  go 
to  a  physician,  or  to  a  sanitarium,  or  to  baths  —  I 
mean  those  of  us  who  are  sick  and  desire  health  first 
of  all  —  without  any  other    thoughts  than  "I  am  sick. 

167 


THE   INDIAN   AND   SOME   LUXURIES 

To  <^o  liere  may  do  nio  (i;oo(l.  I  lio])c  it  will."  Instead 
of  ])reparing  our  niiiids  beforehand  by  thonglitfulness, 
getting  ourselves  into  the  proper  mental  attitude  to  be 
helped,  we  leave  it  to  chance,  to  the  surroundings,  to 
the  doctor,  and  thus  often  fail  to  get  the  benefit  we 
might  have  received.  We  carry  our  business  cares, 
our  family  worries,  our  money-getting,  with  us  and 
thus  defeat  the  end  for  which  we  go. 

Nor  is  that  all!  AYlien  we  get  there  we  want  "all 
the  comforts  of  a  home."  In  other  words,  we  must  be 
assured  that  we  have  a  bedroom  which  we  can  lock 
up  at  night,  a  bedstead  with  a  mattress  as  soft  and 
unhealthy  as  the  one  we  regularly  sleep  on,  stuffy 
closets  where  we  can  hang  our  clothes, —  and  the  rest. 

The  Indian  finds  his  bedroom  under  the  stars.  He 
puts  the  invalid  flat  on  the  ground,  —  a  sheepskin, 
perhaps,  between  him  and  the  earth,  but  that  is  all. 
When  will  the  superior  white  race  learn  that  rejuvena- 
tion of  the  body  comes  quicker  to  those  who  "shed" 
their  civilization,  forswear  their  home  comforts,  quit 
their  indulgence  in  fixed-up  dishes,  refrain  from  social 
frivolities  (commonly  called  duties),  and  first  and 
foremost,  —  after  throwing  away  all  the  cares  and 
W'orries  that  come  of  being  so  highly  civilized, — get 
to  a  place  where  it  is  possible  to  sleep  out  of  doors  on 
the  hard  ground,  protected,  of  course,  as  the  Indians 
are.  Get  into  the  woods,  on  to  the  hills,  down  in  the 
canyons,  out  on  the  deserts.  Take  a  roll  of  blankets 
along,  and  no  matter  what  the  weather,  learn  to  sleep 
on  the  bosom  of  Mother  Earth,  out  of  doors.  And  if 
the  region  is  one  near  hot  springs  or  mud  baths,  all  the 
better.     ]\Iake  it  for  the  time  being  your  home. 

Ah!  how  wise  is  the  Indian  in  his  choice  of  a  home. 
I  have  before  referred  to  this,  but  I  cannot  help  writing 

168 


THE   INDIAN   AND   SOME   LUXURIES 

of  it  again.  Home !  It  is  not  a  place  of  unrest  to  him, 
where  it  requires  the  labor  of  wife  and  daughter,  or  a 
host  of  servants,  to  keep  it  in  order;  where  polished 
furniture,  polished  floors,  polished  doors,  polished 
mirrors,  keep  one  forever  with  wiping-cloth  in  hand, 
removing  the  marks  of  careless  fingers;  where  bric-a- 
brac  is  accumulated  and  piled  everywhere  to  the  shat- 
tering of  nerves  if  the  children  get  near  it,  or  careless 
visitors  happen  to  call;  where  "social  demands"  are 
so  great  that  children  are  relegated  to  the  care  of  ser- 
vants; where  brothers  and  sisters  scarce  have  time  to 
know  each  other,  and  husbands  and  wives  meet  semi- 
occasionally  —  no,  it  is  not  a  home  of  this  kind.  To 
most  Indians  "everywhere"  is  home  provided  there 
is  a  little  shade,  water,  and  grass  for  his  burro  or 
pony.  In  the  mountains,  where  he  can  shelter  under 
an  overhanging  rock,  or  in  the  forest  where  he  has 
a  roof  of  emerald,  supported  by  great  pillars  of 
pine  or  cottonwood  or  sycamore,  —  there  is  home. 
In  the  desert,  where  the  roof  is  millions  of  miles  high, 
decorated  with  suns  and  moons  and  stars  and  comets 
and  meteors  and  Milky  Way  and  countless  nebulae, 
and  the  walls  are  bounded  on  the  east  by  the  rising  sun, 
and  on  the  west  by  the  setting  sun,  and  God's  own 
laboratories  make  new,  fresh,  pure  air  every  moment 
—  there  is  home. 

The  San  Francisco  disaster  taught  thousands  of 
people  the  healthfulness  of  the  outdoor  life.  People 
who  had  been  ailing  for  years,  puny  children,  anaemic 
youths  and  maidens,  dyspeptic  parents,  all  "picked 
up"  appetite  and  health  when  compelled  to  live  in 
the  parks  and  on  the  streets. 

Let  us  heed  the  lesson.  Let  us  follow  the  example 
of  the  Indian  and  be  more  simple,  more  natural.     Let 

169 


THE   INDIAN   AND   SOINIE    LUXimiES 


us  rele<]fate  to  the  imiseuni  tluM-ollcctiii*;  of  curios  and 
bric-a-brac  and  the  thousand  and  one  things  that  so 
crowd  our  liouses  as  to  make  museums  rather  than 
homes   of   them. 

I  do  not  suppose  it  is  necessary  that  I  should  say 
tliat  in  our  civilization  we  cannot  lUeraUij  do  as  the 
Indian  does  in  this  matter.     That  is  not  my  tliought. 

What  I  would  urge 
is  that  we  Hve  more 
simply,  and  that, 
like  the  Indian, 
we  get  out  of  doors 
more,  instead  of 
housing  ourselves 
the  more  as  w^e 
become  more  "civ- 
ilized." And  that, 
in  the  arrange- 
ments and  accu- 
mulations of  our 
home  W'C  make 
personal  health, 
comfort  and  hap- 
piness the  most 
important  considerations,  rather  than  display,  and  to 
win  the  approval  or  envy  of  our  neighbors. 

But  to  return  to  the  hot  springs.  The  Indian  has 
alw[iys  used  them.  He  also  learned  and  bequeathed 
to  us  the  knowledge  that  mud  is  a  useful  therapeutic 
agent.  The  Yumas,  Mohaves,  and  others  who  live 
near  the  banks  of  the  Colorado  River  are  in  the  habit 
of  regularly  plastering  down  their  hair  and  scalp  with 
thick,  l)lack  mud.  They  go  where  it  is  clean  and  fresh, 
—  washed  down  by  the  rushing  waters  of  the  mighty 

170 


a  mohave  woman  whose  hair  has  been 
"dressed"  in  mud. 


THE   INDIAN   AND   SOME   LUXURIES 

Colorado  through  the  great  canyons  —  and,  rubbing 
it  well  into  their  hair,  they  cover  it  over  with  a  cloth 
tied  over  the  scalp  and  go  on  about  their  daily  work. 
They  keep  the  hair  thus  covered  with  mud  for  a  day 
or  two,  and  then  wash  it  off  and  give  the  scalp  a  thorough 
cleansing.  What  is  the  result.^  Whether  the  fact  be 
a  result  from  the  use  of  the  mud  or  not,  it  is  a  fact  that 
these  river  Indians  have  long,  glossy  black  hair  free 
from  all  disease,  and  their  scalps  are  as  healthy  as  the 
hair.  They  have  no  dandruff,  no  falling  out  of  the 
hair,  and  do  not  need  any  hair  tonic  or  dye.  The 
mud  contains  enough  of  the  finely  ground  sand  com- 
mingled with  the  softer  silt  to  make  a  healthful  mixture 
for  gently  exciting  the  scalp  when  the  rubbing  off  and 
cleansing  process  takes  place.  iVnd  covering  the  hair 
as  well  as  the  scalp  with  the  mud  and  allowing  it  to 
dry  on  demands  that  the  hair  shall  be  well  rubbed  as 
well  as  the  skin.  The  effect  is  to  clean  the  hair  thor- 
oughly, and  who  knows  but  that  the  excitement  gen- 
erated by  thus  rubbing  the  hair  as  well  as  the  scalp  has 
something  to  do  in  promoting  the  healthful  flow  of  the 
elements  required  for  hair  nutrition  ?  Be  that  as  it 
may,  I  know  the  fact,  which  is  that  these  Indians,  men 
as  well  as  women,  have  hair,  long,  black,  glossy, 
reaching  down  to  their  waists,  and  they  attribute  its 
healthfulness  to  the  regular  use  of  the  mud-pack  and 
rub. 

Now,  while  we  may  not  care  to  pack  the  hair  in 
mud,  we  can  certainly  utilize  the  idea.  I  have  done 
so  for  years.  I  often  give  my  scalp  and  hair  a  mud 
bath,  and  it  is  both  agreeable  and  exhilarating,  and  I 
had  the  assurance  a  few  months  ago  from  one  of  the 
leading  scalp  specialists  of  the  East  that  my  scalp  was 
in  an  absolutely  healthful  condition  —  one  of  the  very 

171 


THE   INDIAN    AND   SOME    LI  XIRIES 

few  found  in  sucli  condition  in  tlie  large  eastern  metrop- 
olis. 

The  Indian  also  uses  mud  —  and  by  this  I  mean  the 
clear,  pure,  uncontaminated  earth  and  sandy  mixtures 
found  in  the  rivers  of  the  desert  west  —  for  wounds. 
There  is  little  doubt  but  that  he  learned  this  from  the 
animals.  ^Yho  has  not  seen  a  dog,  after  a  fight  in 
which  he  got  worsted,  run  and  throw  himself  into  a 


A    MOHAVE    IXDIAX    WHOSE    HAIR    AND    SCALP    HAVE    BEEN    CLEANED 

WITH    MUD. 

mud  puddle  ?  Many  years  ago  —  about  twenty  —  I 
read  an  account  of  a  battle  between  a  wildcat  and  a 
dog,  and  the  writer,  who  saw  the  conflict,  told  how  the 
dog  went  and  bathed  himself  in  mud  thereafter.  The 
brief  sketch  made  such  an  impression  on  me  that  I 
knew  just  where  to  find  it,  and  I  have  hunted  it  up, 
and  am  now  going  to  copy  it  for  the  benefit  of  my 
readers.     It  will  help  explain  why  the  Indian  does  the 

172 


THE   INDIAN   AND   SOME   LUXURIES 

same  thing.  He  has  observed  the  animals  bathing  in 
the  mud,  when  wounded,  as  this  dog  did. 

"The  dog  has  won  the  battle;  but  he  has  got  some 
ugly  scars  along  his  sides  and  flank.  Observe,  that 
overheated  as  he  is,  he  does  not  rush  into  that  clear 
stream.  He  takes  his  bath  in  that  shallow  spring  with 
a  soft  mud  bottom.  Note  how  he  plasters  himself, 
laying  the  wounded  side  underneath,  and  then  sitting 
down  on  his  haunches,  buries  all  the  wounded  parts 
in  the  ooze.  That  mud  has  medicinal  properties. 
The  dog  knows  it.  No  physician  could  make  so  good 
a  poultice  for  the  wounds  of  a  cat's  claws  as  this  dog 
has  found  for  himself.  Pray,  if  you  had  been  clawed 
in  that  way  by  either  feline  or  feminine,  would  you 
have  found  anything  at  the  bottom  of  your  book  phil- 
osophy so  remedial  as  this  dog  has  found  .^" 

The  Indian's  use  of  mud,  therefore,  is  seen  to  be  an 
inheritance  as  the  result  of  his  observation  of  the  ani- 
mals. Since  the  time  I  heard  of  the  dog  and  wildcat 
fight  I  have  had  occasion  to  watch  the  Indians  many 
times.  I  have  used  the  mud  with  them,  and  always 
with  good  results.  And  if,  when  some  four  and  a 
half  years  ago  I  was  bitten  on  the  thumb  by  a  rattle- 
snake, and  for  a  week  was  supposed  to  be  hovering 
between  life  and  death,  I  had  thought  enough  to  have 
done  as  the  Indians  do,  —  gone  and  put  my  hand  and 
arm  in  a  mud  bath  at  the  side  of  a  stream  or  at  the 
bottom  of  a  shallow  spring,  I  should  have  fared  as  well 
as  I  did  (and  perhaps  better),  though  I  had  tv/o  skilled 
physicians,  an  accomplished  professor,  and  a  devoted 
nurse  to  care  for  me. 

And  when  I  was  supposed  to  be  well  again, — 
months  afterward, —  I  found  that  the  deadly  poison 
had  in  some  way  lodged  in  the  lining  of  the  stomach, 

173 


THE   INDIAN   AND   SOME   LUXURIES 

so  tlial,  at  times,  it  Avould  cause  a  nervous  and  mus- 
cular disturbance  that  made  me  suffer  intense  agony. 
I  tlien  recalled  the  use  of  mud  by  my  Indian  friends, 
and  I  hied  me  away  as  speedily  as  I  could  to  the  hot 
mud  baths  of  Paso  Robles,  in  California.  There  the 
sulphur  water  at  a  temperature  of  over  110°  Fahrenheit 
comes  bubbling  into  a  great  wooden  tank  filled  with 
the  soft,  velvety  mud,  black  as  ink,  of  the  tule  marsh. 
Into  this  tank  I  stepped,  and  gradually  worked  my  way 
into  the  mud,  lying  down  in  it,  and  wriggling  and  work- 
ing my  body  until  I  was  as  near  covered  as  I  could  be. 
I  brought  great  armfuls  of  the  hot,  soft,  and  soothing 
nature  poultice  over  my  stomach  and  body,  and  then 
lay  there  as  long  as  it  was  wise  to  do  so.  What  mat- 
tered it  that  I  was  blacker  than  a  negro  when  I  came 
out.  Two  minutes  with  a  bucket  and  a  hose  and  I  was 
cleaner  than  ever.  One  week  of  these  baths  and  I  lost 
the  poison,  never  again  to  return.  I  never  think  of 
Paso  Robles  and  the  mud  baths  there  without  a  deep 
sense  of  gratitude  that  some  of  us  at  least  have  learned 
how  to  utilize  some  good  things  that  the  Indian  has 
taught   us. 


174 


CHAPTER   XV 
THE  INDIAN  AND  THE   SEX   QUESTION 

HAVING  studied  medicine  somewhat  in  my  life, 
I  have  been  permitted  as  a  "medicine  man" 
to  know  more  of  the  intimate  hfe  of  the  Indian  women 
than  many  white  men.  In  this  article  I  propose  to 
give  the  results  of  many  observations  in  this  field,  with 
full  assurance  that  there  are  many  things  the  white 
woman  may  learn  from  the  Indian,  both  in  her  treat- 
ment of  herself  and  her  children. 

In  the  first  place,  the  period  of  adolescence  in  both 
boys  and  girls  is  regarded  with  the  importance  it 
deserves. 

The  white  race  has  much  to  learn  from  the  Indian 
in  its  treatment  of  boys  and  girls  at  this  age.  My 
blood  is  made  to  boil  almost  every  day  when  I  am 
in  our  cities  and  see  young  girls,  just  entering  into 
maidenhood,  coming  home  from  school,  ansemic,  pale, 
nervous,  irritable,  almost  victims  of  St.  Vitus's  dance, 
often  dyspeptic  or  with  a  cough  fastening  its  hold 
upon  them,  because  their  parents  are  so  blind  and 
foolish  as  to  prefer  book  and  school  education  to 
health.  To  me  such  parents  are  guilty  of  cruelty 
and  criminality,  and  I  would  sooner  imprison  them 
and  take  away  the  control  of  their  children  from 
them  than  I  would  the  forger  or  the  housebreaker. 
They  are  cruel  in  that  they  are  either  ignorantly  or 
wilfully  ruining  the  health, — perhaps  for  life,  —  of 
their  children,  and  they  are  criminal  in  that  by  so  doing 
they  are  injuring  the  future  welfare  of  the  state.     Boys, 

175 


THE   INDIAN   AND   THE   SEX   QUESTION 

too,  are  treated  exactly  the  same  at  this  time  as  at 
any  other,  and  when  the  great  mystery  of  sex  awakening 
is  upon  tliem,  they  are  sent  to  school  as  usual,  treated 
with  the  same  untrue  answers  to  the  questions  that 
arise  that  they  were  given  to  quiet  their  minds  when 
they  were  little  more  than  babies.  I  am  thankful 
there  has  been  much  of  an  awakening  in  this  matter 
during  the  past  twenty  years,  and  that  I  have  had  an 
active  ])art  in  it.  I  think  it  was  in  1888  that  I  published 
a  small  book  on  sex  teaching  for  the  young.*  It  is 
as  imperative  to  warn  the  young  to-day  as  it  was  then. 
The  Indian  boy  is  instructed  fully  into  the  mystery 
of  sex  just  as  soon  and  as  simply  as  he  is  in  every 
other  question  that  arises,  and  at  puberty  he  is  made 
the  subject  of  specific  ceremonies  that  teach  him  the 
meaning  of  the  change  that  is  coming  over  him.  He 
is  treated  with  a  new  dignity,  is  formally  recognized 
as  having  entered  man's  estate,  and  is  sent  out  into 
the  woods  or  the  solitude  of  the  desert  "to  come  to 
himself." 

In  the  case  of  girls,  ceremonies  of  instruction,  puri- 
fication, and  dedication  are  almost  universally  observed. 
The  adolescent  is  set  apart  from  her  fellows,  and  the 
elder  women  give  her  definite  and  full  instruction  as 
to  what  the  change  that  is  taking  place  in  her  life  means. 
She  is  showm  the  importance  of  the  new  function,  and 
how  much  the  welfare  of  the  race  depends  upon  it. 
Then  she  is  made  to  undergo  ceremonies  that  last  for 
several  days,  in  which  her  body  and  all  its  functions 
are  dedicated  to  the  tribe.  She  is  one  of  the  future 
mothers  now%  and,  as  such,  is  entitled  to  all  respect  and 
consideration.     There  is  no  foolish  reserve,  no  "  mod- 

*  "The  Guidinp  Light,"  in  two  parts,  to  he  had  only  from  tlie  autlior,  1098 
N.  Raymond  Ave.,  Pasadena,  Cal.     In  paper,  50  cents;  in  cloth,  $1.00  postpaid. 

176 


THE   INDIAN   AND   THE   SEX   QUESTION 

esty,"  so-called,  which  arrogates  to  itself  the  right 
to  criticise  the  wisdom  of  God  in  creating  human 
beings  male  and  female  that  they  may  marry  and  prop- 
agate their  kind  upon  the  earth.  For,  wherever  one 
finds  the  sort  of  "modesty"  that  is  ashamed  of  natural 
and  God-given  functions,  there  is  either  a  mental  per- 
version for  which  the  victim  is  to  be  pitied,  or  a  moral 
perversion  which  is  to  be  reprobated.  Every  Indian 
girl  is  given  fully  to  understand  what  the  function 
means,  with  all  its  possibilities,  and  she  is  taught  to 
pray  that,  when  the  time  comes,  she  may  have  a  lover, 
and  that  he  may  be  a  good  husband,  and  that,  in  due 
time,  she  may  be  the  happy  and  healthy  mother  of 
many  happy  and  healthy  children. 

And  in  some  tribes  there  are  certain  shrines  where 
the  girls  are  taught  to  go  and  offer  their  prayers  that 
lovers,  husbands,  and  children  —  not  one  or  two  of 
the  latter,  but  many  —  may  be  given  to  them  at  the 
will  of  the  gods  above. 

This  is  to  dignify  sex,  to  train  the  girls  that  wifehood 
and  motherhood  are  holy  and  to  be  desired,  and  that 
they  are  not  matters  merely  to  jest  and  joke  about,  or 
to  talk  in  secret  whispers  about  one  to  another,  as  if 
the  very  subject  were  unholy  and  unclean. 

Then  a  matter  of  practical  healthfulness  is  observed 
that  white  parents  need  very  much  to  learn,  it  appears 
to  me,  especially  in  this  age  of  scholastic  crowding  and 
mental  overworking.  Each  month  the  girl  is  required 
to  rest,  in  order  that  she  may  preserve  and  maintain 
her  body  in  perfectly  healthy  condition.  She  may 
go  where  she  will,  but  she  must  be  quiet  and  still,  in 
order  that  the  function  may  be  not  disturbed,  and 
that  its  regularity  may  be  established.  Not  only  this, 
but  this  habit  of  rest  is  kept  up  so  long  as  the  function 

177 


THE    INDIAN   AND   THE   SEX   QUESTION 


continues  throuo;li  life.  Even  on  the  march  a  woman 
may  stay  behind  (if  she  so  desires)  and  rest  for  a  day 
or  so.  The  result  of  this  rest  at  such  times  is  shown 
in  the  strength  and  vigor  the  women  show  during  preg- 
nancy and  at  birth.  They  seem 
to  store  up  strength,  and,  as  I 
shall  later  show,  childbirth  to 
most  of  them  is  no  more  a  time 
of  peril,  ])ain,  or  distress  than 
is  breathing. 

jNIothers  who  neglect  to  thus 
instruct  and  care  for  their 
dauo:hters  at  the  adolescent 
period  are  criminals  both  to 
their  children  and  to  the  race. 
Among  the  ancient  Greeks  such 
a  mother  would  have  been  re- 
garded as  a  monstrosity;  yet 
many  mothers  have  confessed 
to  their  physicians  they  have 
never  had  one  word  of  converse 
with  their  daughters  upon  this 
most  important  subject.  When 
I  see  children  going  to  school 
at  this  adolescent  period,  and 
being  forced  by  our  competitive 
system  of  education  to  strain 
every  nerve  to  cram  the  re- 
quired amount  of  facts  into  their 
brains,  I  do  not  wonder  that  we  have  so  many  sickly 
women  who  are  incapable  of  being  the  mothers  of  healthy 
and  happy  children.  Far  better  that  our  children  be  not 
educated  in  chemistry,  and  literature,  in  physical  science 
and  art,  than  thatthey  unfit  themselves  for  the  happy  rela- 

178 


A  HAVASUPAI  MOTHER,  PROUD 
OF    HKR    MAN-CHILD. 


THE   INDIAN   AND   THE   SEX   QUESTION 

tionsof  a  beautiful  marriage  and  sweet  and  tender  parent- 
hood. For  let  the  new  or  the  old  woman  say  what  she 
will,  the  divinely  ordered  plan  is  that  women  shall  be 
wives,  and  happy  wives  at  that,  capable  of  making  their 
husbands  happy,  or  at  least  of  contributing  their  share 
to  that  end,  and  also  that  they  shall  know  the  joys  of 
maternity.  Unhappy  indeed  is  that  woman  whose 
physical  condition  is  such  that  she  refuses  to  know  the 
sweet  touch  of  her  own  baby's  body,  and  denies  herself 
the  blessed  privilege  of  training  its  soul  for  a  beautiful 
and  useful  life. 

The  Indian  mother  sees  to  it  that  her  daughter  is 
early  taught  her  future  possibilities  and  the  will  of 
Those  Above  in  regard  to  her,  and  the  growing  woman 
would  as  soon  shirk  the  responsibilities  of  her  sex  as 
she  would  refuse  to  eat.  The  consequences  are  that 
normal  births  with  Indian  women  are  practically 
painless  and  entirely  free  from  danger.  I  have  known 
a  woman  to  deliver  herself  of  her  child,  sever  the  umbili- 
cus, and  then  walk  half  a  mile  to  the  creek,  walk  into 
it  with  the  baby,  and  give  herself  and  the  child  a  good 
washing,  then  return  to  her  camp,  suckle  the  little 
one,  and  proceed  to  attend  to  her  duties  as  if  nothing 
had  happened.  At  another  time  I  saw  a  woman,  less 
than  half  an  hour  after  her  child  was  born,  start  off  for 
a  heavy  load  of  wood.  Their  freedom  from  constrict- 
ing waist-bands,  their  absolute  freedom  of  body,  their 
nasal  and  deep  breathing,  their  muscular  exercise 
through  life,  their  open  air  sleeping  and  living,  —  all 
have  much  to  do  with  these  easy  births. 

To  a  good  Indian  woman,  also,  there  is  nothing 
more  evil  than  to  circumvent  the  will  of  Those  Above 
by  refusing  to  have  children.  Such  a  woman  would  be 
almost   a   monstrosity   to    an    Indian,    who   would   be 

179 


THE   INDIAN   AND   THE   SEX   QUESTION 

unable  to  comproliend  the  mental  workings  of  such  an 
abnorniaiity.  Cliiklren  are  to  be  desired,  to  be  longed 
for,  and  to  become  a  joyous  possession.  In  the  making 
of  some  of  their  basketry  the  Paiuti  women  weave  a 


THE    AUTHOR    DKSCHIBING    THE    SYMBOLISM    OF    THE    PAIUTI    BASKET 

DESIGN. 

design  which  shows  the  opening  between  the  upper 
and  lower  worlds  through  which  the  souls  of  all  children 
born  into  this  upper  world  must  come.  By  a  corres- 
pondence of  the  symbol  with  the  thing  symbolized,  the 

180 


THE   INDIAN   AND   THE   SEX   QUESTION 

Paiuti  weaver  believes  that  if  she  closes  up  this  open- 
ing in  the  basket,  she  will  render  herself  incapable  of 
bearing  any  more  children.  Therefore,  even  though 
you  were  to  offer  her  her  weight  in  money,  you  could 
not  persuade  her  to  close  up  the  aperture  in  the  basket's 
design.  This  would  be  circumventing  the  will  of  the 
gods. 

The  same  law,  too,  applies  to  the  suckling  of  her 
child.  The  Indian  mother  never  dreams  of  foregoing 
this  healthful  duty  and  pleasure.  She  regards  it  as 
one  of  her  special  joys,  in  which  she  is  superior  to  man. 
And  just  as  the  Paiuti  weaver  refuses  to  close  the  aper- 
ture in  her  basket,  so  does  the  Zuni  woman  refuse  to 
close,  except  with  averted  eyes  and  a  prayer  that  the 
gods  will  see  she  did  it  with  unseeing  eyes,  the  tiny 
aperture  in  the  mammae  of  the  water  bottles  which 
she  makes  of  clay  in  imitation  of  the  human  breasts. 
She  dare  not,  even  thus  in  symbol,  suggest  the  closing 
of  her  own  maternal  founts. 

Ah!  beautiful  simplicity  and  joy  of  naturalness. 
The  God  of  men  and  women  surely  knew  what  was 
good  for  them  when  He  set  in  motion  the  forces  that 
created  them.  In  harmony  with  His  will  and  purpose 
we  are  healthy,  happy,  normal  beings,  living  lives  of 
purity,  progress,  and  peace.  In  opposition  to  His 
will  we  are  unhealthy,  unhappy,  abnormal  beings, 
full  of  wretchedness,  impurity,  and  misery.  In  many 
things  the  Indian,  too  simple  to  go  far  away  from  the 
Divine  precepts  which  come  to  him  through  contact 
with  nature,  is  wiser  than  we.  Let  us  then  put  on  the 
garment  of  simplicity,  seek  to  know  the  will  of  God, 
and  with  hearts  like  little  children  learn  the  true  way, 
and  then  seek  for  courage  to  walk  therein. 


181 


A    HEALTHY    AND   HAPPY    PIMA   MOTHER   WHOSE    BABY    WAS   GLADLY   WELCOMED. 


CHAPTER  XVI 
THE   INDIAN   AND   HER  BABY 

T  HAVE  elsewhere  spoken  of  the  Indian  woman's 
■*■  reception  of  her  child.  It  is  welcomed  with  joy, 
and  yet  in  its  first  hour's  treatment  most  white  women 
would  think  its  life  would  terminate.  After  seeing  that 
it  breathes  properly  —  that  is,  through  the  nose  —  the 
mother  carries  her  little  one  to  the  nearest  creek  or 
water-hole  and  gives  it  a  good  bath.  Cold  water  has 
no  terrors  for  her,  and  she  does  not  fear  its  use  for  the 
child.  With  this  cold  bath  the  child  may  be  said  to 
enter  its  earthly  existence.  Henceforth  life  is  to  be  a 
succession  of  hardening  processes.  Indian  babies 
get  no  foolish  and  weakening  coddling.  They  are  loved 
dearly  and  petted  often,  but  are  made  to  lie  down  on 
flat  boards  or  basket  cradles,  with  arms  and  legs 
strapped  down,  and  are  thus  early  accustomed  to 
physical  restraint.  They  sleep  out  of  doors  from  the 
day  of  their  birth,  and  become  accustomed  to  all  kinds 
of  weather.  For  an  Indian  child  who  has  taken  cold 
we  shall  look  in  vain.  The  name,  the  thought  of  such 
an  ill  is  unknown. 

If  the  parents  have  to  move  from  canyon  up  to 
plateau,  or  go  ofl^  to  far  away  forests  for  the  winter's 
supply  of  pinion  nuts,  the  child  is  put  into  its  carrying 
basket,  swung  on  the  back  of  the  mother,  dependent 
from  her  forehead,  and  carried  either  on  horseback 
or  on  foot  to  the  new  stopping  place.  Simplicity  and 
naturalness  accompany  every  stage  of  the  little  one's 
life  until  the  age  of  puberty,  when  the  child-life  is 
supposed  to  end,  and  the  man  or  woman  life  begins. 

183 


THE   INDIAN   AND   HER   BABY 


Now.  while  of  very  necessity  our  method  of  treating 
white  children  must  be  different  from  this,  we  can 
learn  many  lessons  from  the  Indian  that  will  materially 
benefit  our  race.  The  key-stone  of  the  whole  idea  is 
found  in  the  words:  "No  coddling."  Not  lonoj  ao;o  I 
went  to  the  home  of  an  artist  fiiend.     Ilis  wife  had 

just  presented  him 
with  a  fine,  healthy 
son.  The  wife's 
mother  was  present, 
and  had  taken  charge 
of  the  young  mother 
and  her  baby.  The 
room  was  stifling  hot, 
so  that  I  could  scarcely 
breathe,  and  when  I 
went  to  see  the  baby 
it  was  wrapped  up  in 
a  cradle  witli  a  sheet 
and  three  blankets  over 
its  head.  At  once  I 
opened  the  doors  and 
window^s,  taking  good 
precaution  to  see  that  the  mother  did  not  take  cold. 
1  gave  both  grandmother  and  new  mother  a  lecture 
upon  the  monstrous  folly  and  cruelty  of  thus  depriving 
the  new-born  child  of  needed  air  for  its  expanding  lungs. 
The  lesson  was  accepted  in  the  proper  spirit,  for  the 
father  fully  agreed  with  me,  and  on  the  grandmother's 
departure,  a  few  days  later,  the  coddling,  smothering 
process  ceased,  and  a  cold  bath,  sleeping  out  of  doors, 
and  a  generally  healthy  treatment  of  the  child  sub- 
stituted. I  know  this  is  an  exaggerated  case,  but  it 
serves  as  an  illustration  of  the  wrongful  and  excessive 

184 


A    HEALTHY    AND    HAPPY    INDIAN    BABY. 


THE   INDIAN   AND   HER   BABY 

"coddling"  we  give  our  children,  from  which  follow 
such  evils  as  weak  lungs,  weak  throats,  readiness  to 
take  cold,  etc. 

As  the  exaggerated  opposite  of  this,  let  me  relate 
the  treatment  I  accorded  to  my  own  children. 

When  my  first  son  was  born,  we  were  so  located  that 
I  was  compelled  to  be  both  physician  and  nurse.  His 
first  experience  —  after  a  good  hot  bath  —  was  a  cold 
bath,  and  within  half  an  hour  of  his  birth  he  was 
sleeping  out  of  doors.  At  five  weeks  of  age  he  and  his 
mother  accompanied  me  on  an  eight-hundred-mile 
drive  over  the  plains  and  deserts  of  Nevada.  We 
camped  out,  slept  on  the  ground,  and  gave  him,  when- 
ever possible,  an  open  air  bath  in  the  cold  mountain 
brooks  that  occasionally  were  met  with. 

A  year  or  so  after  the  second  boy  was  born  I  was 
stationed  in  the  little  town  of  Cedarville,  Cal.,  and 
one  of  the  happiest  remembrances  of  my  life  there  was 
in  winter  when  the  snow  was  deep  upon  the  ground. 
I  would  place  a  canvas  upon  the  floor  of  my  small 
study,  where  a  good  fire  blazed  in  the  stove,  fetch  in  a 
couple  of  washtubs  full  of  snow,  then  undress  the 
youngsters,  and  watch  them  as  they  sat  in  the  snow, 
rubbed  it  on  their  naked  bodies  and  laughed  and 
shouted  and  crowed  with  delight  when  I  gently  snow- 
balled   them. 

While  they  were  little  tots,  every  morning  before 
being  dressed  they  stood  outside  while  I  threw  —  not 
poured,  but  threw,  —  a  bucketful  of  cold  water  over 
them.  Then,  after  a  vigorous  and  hearty  rub  down, 
they  went  with  me  for  a  walk  where  they  were  allowed 
to  run  and  jump  and  romp  to  their  heart's  content. 

This  I  call  a  rational  treatment  of  children.  It 
certainly  is  a  healthy  treatment,  and  those  brought  up 

185 


THE   INDIAN   AND   HER   BABY 

under  such  an  Indian  metliod  will  never  know  the 
aches,  pains,  ills,  and  weaknesses  that  most  white 
children  are  afflicted  with.  And  I  wonld  treat  my 
baby  girls,  if  I  had  any,  exactly  the  same  as  my  boys, 
for  the  health  of  the  race  more  nearly  depends  upon 
the  health  of  the  future  mothers  than  upon  that  of  the 
future  fathers. 

If  it  be  thought  that  I  am  too  extreme  I  quote  an 
article  entire  from  a  recent  Good  Health,  entitled 
"Strenuous  Health  Culture,"  in  which  it  will  be  seen 
that  others  have  done  the  same  thing  with  equally 
good  results. 

"  'Time  was  when  clothing,  sumptuous  or  for  use, 
Save  their  own  painted  skins,  our  sires  had  none.' 

"Yet  they  were  far  healthier  and  hardier  than  the 
present  much-clad  generation.  Why  does  the  savage 
go  naked  with  impunity  while  the  civilized  man  shivers 
in  his  clothes,  and  is  a  prey  to  colds,  pneumonia,  and 
a  variety  of  diseases  unknown  to  the  naked  savage  ? 

"One  of  the  marvels  of  the  normal  human  body  is 
its  wonderful  adaptability  — -  the  maintenance  of  its 
equilibrium  under  constantly  varying  conditions.  By 
the  regulation  and  adaptation  of  the  heat  functions 
of  the  body  the  bodily  temperature  is  maintained  at 
the  normal  standard  in  spite  of  the  changing  temper- 
ature of  the  surrounding  atmosphere.  But  when  the 
body  is  artificially  heated  continually,  as  by  over- 
clothing  and  over-heated  rooms,  its  functions  become 
to  some  degree  dormant,  and  in  consequence  the  nat- 
ural bodily  resistance  is  greatly   lessened. 

"The  effort  of  the  body  to  resist  cold  stimulates  and 
strengthens.  One  who  can  resist  cold  can  resist  all 
kinds  of  disease  germs.     This  has  been  demonstrated 

186 


THE   INDIAN   AND   HER   BABY 

by  the  success  of  the  'cold-air  cure'   for  a  variety  of 
diseases. 

"The  old-time  coddling  of  delicate  children,  which 
still  further  lessened  their  vitality  and  weakened  their 
powers  of  endurance,  is  now  giving  place  to  its  opposite. 
Judicious  exposure  to  cold  has  been  found  to  be  one  of 
the  best  methods  of  strengthening  weak  infants  and 
developing  healthy  children.  At  a  recent  conference 
of  mothers  held  in  Minnesota,  they  were  advised  that 
a  snowbank  makes  one  of  the  best  cradles.  One 
mother  who  had  tried  this  treatment  thought  that  it 
accounted  for  the  unusual  health  and  strength  of  the 
family. 

"A  Milwaukee  physician.  Dr.  John  E.  Worden,  has 
adopted  this  strenuous  treatment  to  prepare  his  babes 
for  the  rigors  of  life,  and  up  to  the  present  his  methods 
have  been  abundantly  justified  by  their  success.  His 
little  daughters,  Shirley  and  Jane,  aged  respectively 
eight  and  three  years,  are  two  of  the  firmest  and 
healthiest  bits  of  humanity  to  whom  disease  of  all 
kinds  is  unknown.  During  the  cold  weather  these 
children  may  be  seen  barefooted  and  bareheaded,  clad 
only  in  their  cotton  garments,  thoroughly  enjoying  a 
romp  in  the  snowdrifts,  and  without  even  a  goose- 
pimple   on   their  skin. 

'"We  are  merely  following  out  health  rules,'  said 
Dr.  Worden,  speaking  of  his  unique  methods  of  bring- 
ing up  his  children.  'We  are  aiming  at  prevention 
rather  than  at  cure.  We  have  brought  the  children 
up  so  that  they  are  fearless,  and  dread  neither  the  ice- 
cold  plunge  nor  a  romp  in  the  snow  in  their  bare  feet. 
The  door  is  always  open,  and  they  go  out  when  they 
like  and  return  when  they  are  ready  to  do  so.  We  do 
not  force  the  children  to  go  out  in  the  snow  barefooted ; 

187 


THE   INDIAN   AND   HER   BABY 

they  go  out  of  their  own  free  will,  and  play  until  they 
are  tired,  or  their  attention  is  called  to  something  else. 

"'In  the  summer  we  send  them  out  into  the  sun 
bareheaded  and  barefooted,  with  orders  to  keep  out  of 
the  shade.  On  the  street  cars  they  are  instructed  to 
sit  on  the  sunny  side  of  the  car.  It  is  well  that  they 
experience  something  of  contrast;  therefore,  a  cold 
bath  is  given  them  daily  in  the  warm  weather.  In  the 
winter  they  are  allowed  to  go  outdoors  to  get  stimulus 
from  the  cold   air. 

'"Children  brought  up  like  tender  hot-house  plants 
are  likely  to  contract  colds  and  other  diseases,  and  to 
die  as  the  result  of  not  having  robust  constitutions. 
These  children,  on  the  contrary,  will  and  do  escape 
without  any  sickness;  and  should  they  get  sick,  their 
recovery  is  almost  certain,  because  of  their  being  strong 
and  in  good  condition.' 

"Both  Dr.  Worden  and  his  wife  are  graduates  of  the 
University  of  Michigan,  and  Mrs.  Worden  was  for  a 
number  of  years  before  her  marriage  a  trained  nurse. 

"'During  my  hospital  training  and  institutional 
work,'  says  Mrs,  Worden,  'I  saw  so  much  sickness  due 
to  weakened  bodies  that  I  investigated  causes,  and 
came  to  the  conclusion  that  much  of  the  weakness  was 
due  to  a  lack  of  physical  development,  to  abuses 
through  mistaken  kindness  on  the  part  of  the  parents, 
that  so  weakened  the  immature  bodies  that  they  could 
not  withstand  the  attack  of  disease.  With  our  children, 
beginning  from  babyhood,  we  have  had  one  aim,  and 
that  is  to  give  them  strong  physiques,  and  we  have 
succeeded  thus  far.  They  have  never  had  one  drop  of 
medicine,  and  never  been  ill  one  moment.' 

"The  clothing  of  these  children  is  always  light,  and 
much  the  same  summer  and  winter.     It  is  of  cotton 

189 


THE   INDIAN   AND   HER   BABY 


almost  exclusively,  and  no  bands  are  ever  used.  In 
the  place  of  stockings  the  easy,  sensible,  comfortable 
Roman  sandal,  made  only  in  England,  is  worn. 

"'We  believe  in  clothing  them  as  lightly  as  j)Ossible,' 
says  ]Mrs.  Worden,  'depending  on  their  excellent  heat- 
making  organs  to 
(leveloj)  any  extra 
warmth  needed  in 
an  emergency. 
This  stimulates  a 
necessity  for  a  good, 
strong  internal  cir- 
culation of  the  fluids 
of  the  body,  and 
creates  a  desire  to 
exercise  a  little  in 
order  to  keep  warm. 
Over-warm  children 
are  usually  lazy.' 

"The  Worden 
home  is  sunny  and 
brio-ht,  with  win- 
(lows  wide  open  day 
and  night,  and  the 
rooms  kept  always 
cool  and  fresh.  No 
useless  furniture,  no 
bric-a-brac,  no  dra- 
peries, harbor  dust  and  germs.  The  walls  and  hard- 
wood floors  and  few^  articles  of  furniture  are  kept 
scrupulously  clean,  but  w^ithout  ornament.  The  wdiole 
house  is  given  over  to  the  children,  and  there  is  no 
need  for  prohibitions  of  any  sort. 

"Concerning  the  diet  of  his  children   Dr.  Worden 

190 


THE  BEST  NATUHED  BAHY  I  EVER  SAW 
PARENTS  ARE  WALLAPAIS. 


THE   INDIAN   AND   HER   BABY 

says:  *No  national  or  international  problems  concern- 
ing the  welfare  of  our  people  are  as  important  as  our 
food  problem.  And  yet  it  is  a  very  simple  one,  solved 
by  an  all-wise  Creator  before  the  creation  of  man. 
Time  enough  is  wasted  in  the  kitchen  of  our  modern 
homes,  spoiling  good  food  by  making  almost  impossible 
mixtures  and  then  over-cooking  these,  to  do  all  the 
necessary  work  of  any  nation.  This  careless  and 
ignorant  diet  leads  to  ill- health,  from  which  there  is  no 
escape  unless  we  learn  to  lead  a  sensible  life,  eating 
moderately  of  natural  foods,  and  these  in  simple  com- 
binations. 

'"With  our  children,  very  little  cow's  milk  is  used, 
largely  because  of  its  unreliability  in  the  city;  but  we 
do  not  favor  an  abundance  of  milk  anyway,  after  chil- 
dren have  teeth  to  use  on  their  food.  Their  diet  con- 
sists of  fruits,  cereals,  nuts,  and  vegetables,  no  spices, 
vinegar,  etc.,  being  used.  Whole  wheat  flour,  the 
bran  included,  is  used  exclusively. 

"'They  are  never  urged  to  eat.  We  expect  them  to 
know  whether  they  are  hungry  or  not.  Urging  chil- 
dren to  eat  leads  to  overfilling  of  the  stomach,  and  this 
to  bowel  disorders,  and  often  death.  Next  to  urging 
children  to  eat,  as  a  cause  of  overeating,  is  variety. 
We  never  supply  them  with  a  choice  of  foods  at  one 
meal.  The  diet  for  each  meal  is  simple,  and  yet  in  one 
season  or  year  they  get  quite  a  variety,  as  exampled 
by  a  list  of  the  fruits  they  get,  one  kind  at  a  time: 
Apples,  pears,  grapes,  plums,  cherries,  oranges,  pine- 
apples, peaches,  grape  fruit,  prunes,  apricots,  figs, 
dates,  raisins,  bananas,  melons,  and  the  numerous  kinds 
of  berries  —  all  choice  fruit.  They  scorn  anything 
with  a  bad  spot  as  being  not  fit  to  eat.  Then  again 
we  buy  them  lots  of  nuts  for  food,  not  just  for  the  fun 

191 


THE   INDIAN   AND   HER   BABY 

of  cracking  and  eating  and  usually  overeating.  They 
get  nut  food  as  a  United  States  soldier  his  rations. 
Next  we  have  an  immense  choice  of  vegetables,  of 
which  they  get  one  kind  at  a  meal  —  never  two  vege- 
tables to  one  child  at  the  same  meal.  On  such  a  diet 
it  is  no  occasion  for  surprise  that  they  have  never  been 
sick.  The  good  health  to  be  derived  from  a  simple 
meal  more  than  repays  for  any  fancied  abstinence.' 

"The  Worden  children  are  already  little  athletes. 
The  elder  girl  is  the  youngest  basket-ball  player  in 
Milwaukee.  Every  evening  they  exercise  for  a  few 
minutes  nude,  incidentally  getting  an  air  bath  to  the 
skin  of  the  whole  body  while  developing  and  strength- 
ening the  muscles. 

"  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Worden  are  not  faddists.  They  are 
earnestly  and  steadfastly  endeavoring  to  fulfill  the 
trust  committed  to  them,  to  develop  their  children  into 
strong  healthy  women,  to  strengthen  their  powers  of 
endurance,  and  develop  their  physical  faculties  by 
bringing  them  up  in  accordance  with  all  the  laws  of 
health." 

Another  thing  that  I  would  have  white  women 
learn  from  their  Indian  sisters,  is  a  thing  they  used 
to  know  but  are  rapidly  forgetting.  That  is,  the  joy 
of  suckling  their  own  children.  An  Indian  mother 
that  does  not  suckle  her  own  child  is  almost  unknown. 
With  the  "superior  classes"  of  the  white  race  it  is  the 
opposite  of  this  proposition  that  is  true.  Not  only  is 
this  of  great  injury  to  the  child,  but  it  is  fraught  with 
most  serious  consequences  to  the  mother.  Is  it  nothing 
that  the  mother  of  a  child  willfully  puts  away  from 
herself  all  the  little,  fond,  sweet  intimacies  that  nat- 
urally grow  out  of  this  relationship;  the  joy  of  exercise 

19-2 


THE   INDIAN   AND   HER   BABY 

of  a  natural  and  beautiful  function;  the  feeling  that 
the  baby  life  is  still  being  sustained  by  the  mother's 
own  life-blood  transmuted  by  mother  love  and  mother- 
processes  into  sweet,  delicious  food  that  nothing  else 
can  equal  ? 

It  is  a  fact  that  all  the  higher  affections  and  emo- 
tions  of  the  human   soul   have   to  be   cultivated   and 


A    DILIGENT    HOPI    BASKET    WEAVEH,    WHO    IS    ALSO    A    GOOD    MOTHER. 


developed.  The  child  sees  little  or  no  beauty  in  a 
sunset;  it  must  be  trained  to  recognize  it.  The  love 
of  Nature  grows  as  we  cultivate  it.  The  nobler  emo- 
tions of  self-sacrifice,  humility,  kindliness,  grow  as  we 
cultivate  them,  and  while,  where  maternity  is  a  per- 
fectly natural  process,  joy  accompanies  it  in  all  its 
manifestations,  there  is  no  denying  the  fact  that  in  our 

193 


THE   INDIAN   AND    HER   BABY 

so-called  civilization  women  have  to  cultivate  the 
feelings  connected  with  the  function  to  bring  to  them- 
selves the  joy  they  should  normally  possess.  But  that 
there  is  a  joy  in  suckling  one's  own  child  many,  many 
mothers  —  true   mothers  —  have   assured    me,    and    I 


A    PROUD    AND    HAPPY    WALLAPI    SMOTHER. 


wish  to  add  my  voice  to  the  supplications  of  the  inno- 
cent child  that  every  mother  give  of  her  own  sweet, 
loving  breast  to  the  child  she  has  brought  into  the 
world.  Some  mothers  refuse  because  it  destroys  the 
beautiful  contour  of  the  bust;  others  because  it  de- 
mands   too    close    confinement,  and    would    therefore 

194 


THE   INDIAN   AND   HER   BABY 

prohibit  regular  attendance  upon  club  or  social  func- 
tions. Poor  women!  Bartering  their  God-given  rights 
and  privileges  for  the  messes  of  pottage  that  society 
and  club  life  afford  —  that  is,  afford  to  mothers  at  the 
time  they  should  be  with  their  babes.  Can  any 
society  on  earth,  any  club  that  ever  existed,  compensate 
for  the  loss  of  healthful  nutrition  given  from  a  loving 
mother's  breast.^  Let  the  statistics  of  "bottle-fed" 
babies  attest  the  dangers  that  accrue  from  the  mother's 
refusal  (or  inability  —  for  which  she  is  to  be  pitied 
rather  than  condemned)  to  suckle  her  own  young. 


195 


*^ll 

t 

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^i. 

^^^^^^^^^^^^^K 

^^^^^^F 

A   HOPI    BABY    WHO    HAS    NEVER   YET   KNOWN    CLOTHES. 


CHAPTER   XVII 
THE  INDIAN  AND  THE  SANCTITY  OF  NUDITY 

'l^T'HILE  adults  of  both  sexes  among  all  Indians 
'  ^  wear  either  a  skirt  or  a  gee-string,  there  is  not 
the  slightest  hesitancy  in  allowing  the  young,  both  boys 
and  girls,  to  run  about  in  a  state  of  nudity.  Since  we 
have  sent  white  teachers  and  missionaries  to  the  In- 
dians, they  are  beginning  to  learn  that  somehow  — 
though  they  can't  sort  it  out  just  how  or  why — there  is 
something  indecent  in  allowing  nude  children  to  wander 
about  their  homes  and  villages.  They  are  being  taught 
to  be  "ashamed," — their  children  are  becoming  sex- 
conscious  as  are  our  white  children,  long  before  their 
time,  and  we  are  foisting  on  to  them  our  hateful,  im- 
pure, and  blasphemous  conceptions  of  nudity.  For 
myself  I  am  free  to  confess  that  I  have  no  sympathy 
with  this  kind  of  teaching.  I  think  it  unnecessary,  and 
not  only  unnecessary  but  a  positive  injury.  I  believe 
in  the  sanctity  of  nudity,  especially  in  that  of  young 
children,  and  while  with  our  present  social  customs  we 
cannot  allow  our  children  to  be  nude  or  partially 
nude  in  public,  I  would  that  our  minds  were  as  clean 
in  this  matter  as  are  those  of  the  Indians  with  whom  I 
have  so  long  been  acquainted. 

Whatever  society  may  demand  of  us  in  public,  there 
is  no  reason  why,  in  private,  both  our  children  and 
ourselves  should  not  spend  a  certain  portion  of  every 
day,  if  possible,  in  contact  with  the  direct  rays  of  the 
sun  and  the  air.  Every  school  in  the  land  should  be 
so  equipped,  and  our  children  and  their  parents  be  so 

197 


THE   SANCTITY   OF   NUDITY 

trained,  that,  under  j)r()})er  direction,  a  certain  part  of 
every  day  the  students  could  be  so  exj)osed.  All 
know  the  benefit  that  comes  from  the  exposing  of  the 
arms  and  legs  to  the  sun  and  breezes  at  the  sea-shore. 
Men,  women,  and  children  alike  who  flee  the  city  for 
an  annual  holiday  to  the  seaside  return  to  their  shut-in, 
civilized  (!)  life  with  renewed  vigor  and  health.  Why 
not  give  some  of  this  life  to  city  children  every  day  in 
the  year  ?  Even  in  Eastern  cities,  in  w  inter,  a  solarium 
could  be  created  in  the  top  stories  of  the  schoolhouses, 
and  there,  with  every  window  wide  open,  the  children 
clothed  in  the  scantiest  of  garments,  as  at  the  seaside, 
could  go  through  physical  and  breathing  exercises,  and 
romp  or  play  games  for  half  an  hour,  to  their  great 
benefit  both  of  body  and  mind. 

We  have  for  so  long  trained  ourselves  to  the  half 
expressed  belief  that  there  is  something  wrong  about 
nudity  that  we  find  w^omen's  clubs  draping  statues,  and 
organizations  rejecting  figures  because  they  are  nude, 
which  all  ages  and  all  civilized  peoples  have  accepted 
as  pure  and  chaste  works  of  art.  I  would  not  for  a 
moment  have  it  thought  that  I  approve  of  all  nude 
statues  or  pictures.  Many  of  them  have  no  virtue  to 
commend  them.  Yet  I  would  not  indiscriminately 
condemn  all  works  of  art  in  the  nude  merely  because 
they  are  nude.  We  have  forgotten  the  appearance  of 
a  healthy  body,  and  feel  ashamed  to  see  one.  By  our 
mental  attitude  we  accuse  the  Creator  of  indecency 
that  "male  and  female  created  He  them,"  for,  not  only 
do  we  veil  the  bodies  of  the  opposite  sexes  from  each 
other,  (which  is  a  perfectly  correct  and  wise  thing  to  do) 
but  daughters  are  ashamed  to  be  seen  nude  by  their  own 
mothers,  and  mothers  by  their  daughters.  I  believe 
in  the  sanctity  of  nudity.     Let  the  sexes  remain  apart, 

198 


THE   SANCTITY   OF  NUDITY 


by  all  means,  but  let  there  be  less  of  false  shame  when 
men  see  nude  men,  or  women  see  nude  women,  or  either 
or  both  see  nude  children.  It  is  a  fact  declared  by  the 
most  conservative  of  white  explorers,  that  the  naked 
tribes  of  aborigines  are  the  most  pure,  chaste,  and 
truly  modest.  Our  conception  that  because  Indians 
are  unclothed  they  are 
therefore  indecent  and 
unclean,  impure  and  un- 
chaste, is  a  dirty  concep- 
tion, dishonoring  to  our- 
selves and  our  Creator. 
Honi  soit  qui  mal  y  pense, 
and  "to  the  pure  all 
things  are  pure"  are  as 
true  to-day  as  when  they 
were  first  spoken  and 
written,  and  while  I  am 
as  opposed  as  is  any  one 
living  to  nude  pictures 
and  statues  that  have 
nothing  to  com  m  end 
thein  but  their  nudity; 
while  I  am  strongly 
opposed  to  promiscuous 
nudity  either  in  whole 
or  in  part,   I  ain  equally 

opposed  to  the  mental  attitude  that  nudity  in  itself  is 
wrong,  and  that  the  Creator  did  not  know  His  busi- 
ness when  he  created  us  both  nude  and  of  different 
sexes. 

Benjamin  Franklin,  John  Quincy  Adams,  and  many 
others  of  the  great  men  of  the  world,  made  it  a  daily 
practice  to  expose  their  bodies  to  the  sun  and  the  air. 

199 


A    HAVASUPAI    CHILD    BROUGHT    UP 

TO    ENJOY    BEING    OUT    IN    THE 

RAIN. 


THE   SANCTITY  OF  NUDITY 

For  years  I  have  seized  every  proper  opportunity  to 
do  so,  such  as  when  I  took  my  fifteen  days'  rowing  trip 
down  the  Colorado  River.  When  on  the  Salton  Sea 
exploring  trip ;  when  out  in  the  deserts,  the  canyons, 
the  forests,  on  the  mountain  tops,  I  endeavored  every 
day  to  give  my  body  some  exposure,  and  every  night 
and  morning,  when  camping  out,  before  retiring  and 
arising,  I  have  a  brief  air  bath,  sometimes  with  ^dgorous 
physical  exercises.  Thus  the  i^ower  of  God's  own 
sun  and  air  enter  my  body  through  every  pore  of  the 
skin,  and*  I  enjoy  a  health,  vigor,  vim,  and  tingle  of 
delight  I  can  get  in  no  other  w^aj\ 

When  I  first  visited  the  Havasupai  Indians,  all  the 
men  were  nude,  part  of  the  time,  save  for  the  breech- 
clout.  In  their  dances,  in  some  of  which  I  participated, 
it  w^as  a  delight  to  see  the  movements  of  their  perfect 
muscles,  their  bronze  flesh  glistening  in  the  sun,  or  in 
the  glow  of  the  camp  fires.  And  men,  women,  and 
children  all  bathed  at  the  same  time,  in  the  clear 
waters  of  Havasu  Creek,  all  the  adults,  of  course, 
wearing  either  a  short  skirt  or  a  breech  clout,  but  the 
major  part  of  the  body  fully  exposed.  There  was  no 
immodesty  and  no  thought  of  anything  of  the  kind. 
Nudity  or  semi-nudity  was  taken  as  a  matter  of  course, 
and  neither  by  word  or  deed  did  anyone  seem  conscious 
of  it.  After  vigorous  swimming,  the  young  men 
w^restled,  the  youngsters  ran  races,  the  men  indulged 
in  various  games,  their  bodies  still  exposed  to  the  sun 
and  the  air,  and  no  one  could  fail  to  observe  the' health, 
vigor,  and  robustness  that  came  from  this  habit  of  life. 

The  Hopis  train  their  boys  and  young  men  to  their 
nKDrning  runs  over  the  desert  in  a  state  of  almost 
complete  nudity,  and  in  their  snake  dance  races,  noth- 
ing but   the   gee-string   is   worn,    and   people   of  both 

200 


THE   SANCTITY   OF   NUDITY 


sexes  gaze  upon  them  with  no  thought  of  immodesty. 
Modesty  is  a  condition  of  soul,  and  has  nothing  to  do 
with  the  exposure  or  covering  of  the  body.  One  may 
be  a  Godiva  and  be  far  more  modest  than  anotlier 
who  veils  not  only  her  whole  body  but  even  her  face. 
And  for  myself,  I  wish  to  record  my  conviction  that  it 
would  be  far  better 
for  the  morals  of 
civilized  man  if  he 
would  bring  up  his 
children  of  both 
sexes  to  recognize 
and  know  the  sanc- 
tity of  nudity,  rather 
than  to  cover  the 
body  as  he  does  and 
to  affirm  by  his 
words  and  suggest 
by  his  demeanor 
that  he  regards  an  | 
exposed  body  as  in- 
decent. A  small 
trunk  can  always  be 
worn  and  this  suffices 
for  every  purpose  of 
true  modesty. 

In  many  of    the 
leading  sanitariums 

of  the  world  the  patients  are  required  to  expose  their 
bodies  to  the  sun  and  air  for  a  certain  length  of  time 
daily.  Here  is  a  struggling  to  get  back  to  a  natural 
condition,  an  almost  essential  condition  to  the  attain- 
ment and  retention  of  perfect  health.  Of  the  out- 
door gymnasiums  for  men  and  women  at  the  Boulder 

201 


A    NUDE    HOPI    SPINNING    WOOL    FOR    THE 
MAKING    OF   A    DRESS    FOR    HIS    WIFE. 


THE   SANCTITY   OF  NUDITY 

Sanitariiiiii,    Colorado,    Dr.     Howard     V.    liand    thus 
writes : 

"Here  the  men  patients,  clothed  with  simple  trunks, 
bask  in  the  sunshine  on  the  sand  which  covers  the 
ground,  follow  the  trainer  through  the  different  lines 
of  gymnastic  w^ork,  finally  plunging  into  the  pool  and 
coming  out  ready  to  be  dried  and  thoroughly  rubbed. 
Donning  their  simple  apparel,  they  can,  if  they  choose, 
proceed  up  the  mountain,  and  gather  beautiful  wild 
flowers  and  rest  the  eye  on  the  surrounding  scenery. 

"■  The  outdoor  gymnasium  is  especially  helpful  in 
the  treatment  of  w^omen.  It  is  very  difficult  to  get 
them  to  dress  properly  when  taking  physical  exercise, 
and  they  are  'so  afraid'  of  exposing  themselves  to 
the  sunlight  and  'ruining'  their  complexion.  But 
the  beautiful  physique  of  some  of  our  young  women 
who  have  trained  in  this  line,  and  the  assurance  that 
they  can  so  develop  themselves,  lead  them  to  make 
short  trips  to  the  gymnasium,  and  gradually  they 
grow  wdlling  to  be  delivered  from  close  wrappings,  and 
expose  themselves  to  the  sunlight.  The  pleasure  is 
enticing;  enjoyment  of  exercise  in  this  place  w^ithout 
the  restriction  of  tight  clothing  rapidly  increases,  and 
desired  results  are  obtained  by  this  means  in  less  time 
than  in  any  other  line  of  training.  The  great  essen- 
tial is  to  have  the  person  in  natural  condition  when 
exercising,  so  that  all  the  organs  of  the  body  may  move 
freely  and  naturally,  without  let  or  hindrance.  Num- 
ber seems  to  increase  the  enchantment ;  hence  the  more 
readily  do  the  timid  and  backward  take  the  first  steps. 

"At  first  it  is  impossible  for  many  to  expand  at  the 
waist  line;  but  a  jump  into  the  pool,  the  temperature 
of  the  water  being  70°  to  75°,  causes  them  involuntarily 
to  inflate  the  respiratory  organs,  and  through  this  and 

202 


THE   SANCTITY   OF   NUDITY 

special  training  deep  breathing  becomes  habitual  in  less 
time  than  it  would  in  any  other  way. 

"We  aim  to  have  our  patients  spend  at  least  one 
hour,  twice  a  day  (forenoon  and  afternoon),  in  the 
open-air  gymnasium. 

"Soon  after  beginning  this  course,  the  patient's  skin, 
and  mind  as  well,  will  be  found  clearing  up.  He  will 
say  his  appetite  is  better,  and  that  he  sleeps  more 
soundly,  and  is  gaining  weight  and  strength.  The 
surface  becomes  brown  in  a  short  time,  but  as  soon  as 
pigmentation  ceases,  there  is  a  natural,  pearly-white 
hue  —  a  sure  indicator  of  health." 

These  open-air  gymnasiums  are  to  be  found  at  the 
leading  sanitariums  of  the  world,  thus  clearly  showing 
that  the  Indian  idea  of  nudity  has  the  sanction  of  the 
highest  and  wisest  medical  opinions  of  the  white  race. 

The  body  is  a  sweet,  a  precious,  a  beautiful  expres- 
sion of  God's  thought;  it  was  and  is  intended  by  the 
Divine  as  the  house  of  the  mind,  the  soul,  the  immortal 
part  of  the  human  being.  Paul  expressly  declares  it  is 
"the  temple  of  the  Holy  Ghost."  Every  part  of  it  is 
beautiful,  every  part  God-given.  In  health  it  is  the 
most  perfect  machine  ever  designed,  and  the  most 
beautiful.  Every  function  it  performs  is  a  marvel, 
every  power  contained  within  it  a  miracle.  How  ob- 
viously wrong  then  is  anything  that  disparages,  lowers, 
offends  the  high  and  supreme  dignity  of  this  glorious 
structure.  Yet  we  are  ashamed  of  it,  we  apologize  for 
it,  we  teach  our  children  to  be  ashamed  of  it  and  to 
cover  it  as  an  evil  thing.  .- 


203 


CHAPTER   XVIII 

THE   INDIAN  AND   FRANKNESS 

A  NOTIIER  thing  tlie  white  race  might  learn  from  the 
'^*-  Indian,  ami  it  would  be  Avell  for  them  if  they  did, 
is  the  virtue  of  frankness.  If  an  Indian  likes  you  or 
dislikes  you,  he  lets  you  know.  There  is  no  pretense, 
no  hypocrisy,  and  in  his  speech  he  indicates  his  feelings. 
Then,  too,  he  is  not  offended  by  plain  speech.  If  he 
lies  and  you  tell  him  so,  he  honors  you ;  and  if  you  lie, 
he  will  not  hesitate  to  say  so.  Making  the  fingers 
of  both  hands  as  a  tongue  on  each  side  of  the  mouth, 
he  says:  "You  talk  two  ways  at  once,"  which  is  Indian 
for  our  ruder  vernacular:  "You  are  a  liar!"  There 
are  no  conventional  lies  among  Indians.  They  do  not 
speak  untruths  for  the  sake  of  politeness.  They  have 
learned  the  lesson  of  the  Man  of  Galilee,  who  two 
thousand  years  ago  taught,  "Let  your  yea  be  yea,  and 
your  nay  nay,  for  whatsoever  is  more  than  these  cometh 
of  evil."  Of  course  there  are  untruthful  Indians,  but 
with  the  major  part  their  word  is  never  broken.  I 
w'ould  just  as  soon  take  the  simple  word  of  most  of  the 
Indians  I  know  as  that  of  the  most  upright  and  honored 
of  the  old-fashioned  Southern  gentlemen.  x\nd  I 
would  no  more  think  of  insulting  the  Indian  by  putting 
his  integrity  in  speech  on  the  same  plane  as  that  of  the 
ordinary  society  or  business  man  or  woman  of  America 
than  I  would  insult  the  lion  by  calling  him  a  wolf. 
Strong  words,  but  true,  and  capable  of  demonstration. 
Too  often  Indians  who  come  in  contact  with  the  whites 

learn  to  lie,  but  the  pure,  uncontaminated,  uncivilized 

204 


THE   INDIAN   AND   FRANKNESS 

Indian  hates  a  lie  and  a  liar  as  much  as  the  proverb 
says  the  devil  hates  holy  water.  I  shall  never  forget 
the  impression  made  in  the  court-room  at  Flagstaff, 
Arizona,  when  Bigwoetten,  a  Navaho  Indian,  who  had 
been  charged  with  murder,  and  who  had  sent  word  to 
the  sheriff  that  it  would  be  useless  to  hunt  for  him  as 
he  could  never  be  found,  but  that,  if  he  was  wanted, 
he  would  come  in  when  the  trial  began,  —  I  say,  I  shall 
never  forget  the  marvelous  impression  caused  by  the 
proud  stalking  into  the  court-room  of  this  old  and 
dignified  Indian,  and  his  speech  to  the  judge :    "Though 


THE    AUTHOR    HAVING    A    POW-WOW    WITH    THE    YUMA    INDIANS. 


I  am  sore  wounded,  and  the  journey  over  the  desert  has 
been  dreary  and  long,  and  has  well-nigh  killed  me,  I 
gave  my  word  that  I  would  be  here, —  the  word  of  a 
Navaho  that  never  was  broken  —  so  here  I  am.  Do 
with  me  as  you  will,  so  that  you  do  honestly." 

Several  times,  with  perfect  confidence,  I  have 
risked  my  life  in  exploring  trips,  on  the  mere  word  of 
an  Indian  that  he  would  be  at  such  a  place  at  a  certain 
time  with  food  and  water.  And  such  has  been  my 
experience  that  now  I  never  hesitate  to  accept  the  sim- 
ple word  of  any  Indian  who  has  an  ordinarily  good 
reputation. 

205 


THE    INDIAN   AND   FRANKNESS 

T  have  often  liad  pow-wows  with  various  tribes  and 
whatever  they  have  promised  me  in  such  councils  has 
invariably  been  performed. 

And  yet  there  is  a  peculiar  twist  to  the  mentality 
of  many  Indians  that  needs  comment  here.  When  a 
stranger  is  questioning  an  Indian  about  anything  that 
she  (or  he)  deems  of  no  great  im})ortance,  as,  for  in- 
stance, the  meaning  of  a  certain  design  on  a  basket, 
the  Indian  conception  of  politeness  leads  her  to  give 
you  the  reply  your  question  seems  to  call  for.  For 
instance,  if  you  see  a  zigzag  design  on  a  basket  and  you 
ask  her,  "Is  this  to  represent  lightning.^"  she  thinks 
that  is  what  you  want  it  to  represent,  so  she  says,  "Yes ! " 
Ten  minutes  later  and  her  questioner  asks,  "Is  this 
the  ripple  of  the  sunshine  on  water  .^"  Again  with 
the  same  thought  uppermost  in  her  mind,  that  she  must 
be  polite  to  her  questioner,  that  that  is  the  answer 
asked  for,  she  says,  "Yes!"  And  so  on  with  a  dozen 
different  questioners,  and  all  of  them  with  a  different 
interpretation  of  the  same  symbol,  her  answer  w^ould 
be  '*yes"  every  time.  This,  however,  is  not  untruth. 
It  is  because  the  white  questioner  does  not  know^  that 
his  is  not  the  method  of  extracting  truth  from  an  Indian. 
He  has  asked  for  a  certain  answer  and  he  has  it. 


206 


CHAPTER    XIX 
THE   INDIAN  AND  REPINING 

TN  all  my  association  with  Indians,  I  cannot  recall  a 
"'•  single  instance  of  repining,  regret  over  the  unalter- 
able events  of  the  past,  weeping  or  wailing  over  joys 
lost,  demoralizing  self-pity,  or  magnified  distress  be- 
cause "we  have  seen  better  days,"  The  simple, 
unpretentious,  really  democratic  life  of  the  Indian 
disposes  of  these  latter  ills  to  which  the  white  race  is 
heir  by  rendering  them  impossible,  and  repining  and 
self-pity  seem  to  have  no  place  in  their  vocabulary. 
They  weep  and  wail  when  their  loved  ones  die;  and 
they  gather  together  and  pray  if  drought  or  other  nat- 
ural evils  destroy  their  crops,  but  when  the  weeping  is 
done  it  is  done,  and  life's  duties  are  taken  up  without 
constant  repining  or  self-pity.  What  has  happened 
has  happened.  Nothing  can  alter  it.  It  is  the  will 
of  Those  Above,  or  whether  it  is  or  not  it  /*S,  and  that  is 
enough.  Hence  why  complain,  why  protest.  Accept 
the  inevitable.  Leave  it  alone.  Let  the  dead  past 
bury  its  dead.  Do  the  work  of  to-day;  never  mind 
the  woe  of  yesterday. 

This  seems  to  me  to  be  the  Indian  attitude.  A 
kind  of  proud  acquiescence,  a  manly,  womanly  recog- 
nition of  facts,  and  a  willingness  to  face  them  and 
thus  triumph  over  them.  Instead  of  magnifying 
their  sorrows  they  minimize  them  by  constant  labor 
and  by  doing  the  very  opposite,  viz.,  magnifying  their 
joys.  Often  have  I  heard  this  done.  A  widow 
speaking  of  her  lost  husband,  and  immediately  referring 

207 


THE   INDIAN   AND   REPINING 

in  tones  of  joy  to  her  boys  and  girls,  her  fine  corn-field, 
her  peach  orchard,  —  her  blessings,  in  fact. 

It  is  simply  impossible  for  any  one  to  estimate  the 
amount  of  time,  strength,  energy,  and  life  that  have 
been  wasted  })y  the  white  race  in  lamenting,  repining, 
weeping,  over  things  that  could  neither  be  helped  nor 
chantjed.  And  how  absurd  such  lamentation  is.  If  an 
evil  can  be  remedied,  remedy  it.  If  a  wrong  can  be 
righted,  right  it.  But  to  waste  valuable  time,  strength, 
and  energy  in  vain  repining  and  self-pity  is  a  crime  that 
no  Indian  is  so  foolish  as  to  commit.  It  is  left  to  the 
white  race  to  thus  show  its  superiority!  This  comes 
from  two  or  three  causes.  First:  Our  race,  mainly 
our  women,  are  not  as  healthy  physically  as  the  Indian, 
and  where  ])hysical  health  is  lacking  it  is  so  easy  to 
yield  to  the  force  of  evil  circumstance.  Strong  men 
or  women  can  force  themselves  into  physical  and 
mental  activity  and  these  bring  solace  and  forgetfulness 
of  the  pains,  ills,  and  sorrows  of  the  past.  Second: 
The  very  ease  and  luxury  of  our  lives  which  all  white 
people  so  nuich  covet,  give  us  time  and  opportunity 
to  sit  down  and  study  over  sources  of  sadness,  while 
on  the  other  hand,  the  Indian  woman  has  her  daily 
work  that  she  must  perform,  willy  nilly,  and  thus  is 
kept  from  the  contemplation  of  her  sorrows.  Third: 
There  is  in  the  Indian  that  calm  serenity  of  mind 
and  soul  that  belong  only  to  either  very  childlike  or 
exceedingly  cultured  natures.  With  the  Indian  it  is 
childlike  acceptance  of  the  will  of  the  gods;  with 
Browning,  it  was  the  calm  philosophy  of  the  highest 
culture.  Unfortunately  for  most  of  us,  we  have  lost 
the  religious  sim})licity  of  our  ancestors,  our  childlike 
faith  and  trust,  and  have  not  yet  attained  to  the  se- 
renity  of   the   philosopher. 

208 


THE   INDIAN   AND   REPINING 

T  write  this  brief  chapter  merely  to  call  attention 
to  the  facts,  and  to  urge  upon  the  white  race  the  neces- 
sity, if  it  would  preserve  its  serenity,  of  either  reverting 
to  the  simple  faith  of  the  Indian,  or  of  cultivating  a 
religious  philosophy  that  will  produce  an  equal  serenity 
and  equanimity  in  the  face  of  trial,  sorrow,  misfortune 
or  death. 


209 


CHAPTER    XX 

THE   INDIAN  AND  THE   SUPERFLUITIES  OF 

EIFE 

rj^HE  white  race  may  learn  much  from  the  Indian  as 
-'■  to  the  superfluities  of  hfe.  There  is  no  question 
but  that  we  —  the  white  race  —  are  cursed  w^ith  the 
collecting  habit;  we  are  vexed  by  many  possessions. 
And  what  is  the  good  of  much  of  what  we  gather? 
Mere  trash,  accumulated  for  show;  bought  without 
much  thought  merely  to  gratify  a  passing  whim,  and 
half  the  time  we  don't  know  what  to  do  with  our  pur- 
chases when  we  have  made  them.  Our  houses  are 
no  longer  homes,  they  are  converted  into  bric-a-brac 
establishments.  Our  children  become  a  terror  to  us 
lest  they  should  touch  this  or  that  or  the  other,  and 
our  nervous  systems  are  wrecked  because  of  dread 
lest  our  fine  "  Japanese  bowl,"  or  our  elegant  "  Etruscan 
vase,"  or  our  exquisite  "Italian  figurine,"  or  "that 
lovely  Hindoo  idol,"  should  be  injured. 

A  year  or  two  ago  I  was  the  guest  in  the  home  of 
an  eminent  scientist,  whose  wife  is  herself  a  remarkable 
woman,  gifted  as  a  writer  and  public  speaker,  and  yet 
whose  home  is  laden  with  extraneous  material  to  the 
nerve-breaking  point.  One  evening  they  w^ere  enter- 
taining a  well-known  author  and  lecturer,  and  the 
hostess  had  called  upon  him  to  tell  of  some  of  his  inter- 
esting experiences.  The  guest  was  a  normal,  healthy 
man  and  gentle  in  his  movements,  but,  while  speaking, 
somewhat  free  in  gesticulation.  In  one  part  of  his 
story  he  made  a  quick  motion  and  pushed  his  chair 

210 


INDIAN   AND   SUPERFLUITIES   OF   LIFE 

gently  back.  In  doing  so  he  overturned  a  Japanese 
vase  that  stood  on  a  sHght  pedestal  near  by.  With 
a  crash  that  shocked  the  nerves  of  every  one  present, 
the  valuable  piece  of  bric-a-brac  fell.  Fortunately, 
it  was  not  broken,  but,  with  blanched  face,  though  her 
voice  was  well  under  control,  the  hostess  tenderly 
picked  it  up.  She  endeavored  to  smooth  over  the 
accident,  but  the  author's  interest  in  his  story  was 
gone.  He  brought  it  to  a  lame  conclusion,  and  gave 
an  evident  sigh  of  relief,  —  though  quite  unconsciously, 
—  when  his  wife  suggested  that  "the  babies  might 
need  her  presence  at  home."  After  they  had  gone  I 
was  witness  of  the  grief  and  distress  of  the  poor  woman 
who  lamented  the  injury  to  her  treasure,  and  who 
evidently  valued  it  far  more  than  she  did  the  comfort 
and  welfare  of  her  visitors  and  guests, 

I  sometimes  go  to  homes  where  the  furniture  is  of 
the  elegantly  polished  or  "enameled"  type.  To  place 
a  book  or  one's  hand  upon  such  polish  is  to  mar  the 
surface.  The  hostess  must  either  keep  the  table  to 
be  merely  looked  at,  and  be  in  constant  terror  lest 
some  one  outwit  her  vigilance  and  mar  its  "beauty," 
or  resign  herself  to  seeing  it  used  and  spoiled. 

Now,  of  all  of  these  things,  I  constantly  ask  myself. 
What 's  the  use  ?  For  myself  I  value  the  health  and 
happiness  of  my  wife  and  my  children  more  than  all 
the  bric-a-brac  that  ever  was,  or  ever  will  be,  made. 
The  nerves  of  the  former,  and  the  healthy,  untram- 
meled  movements  of  the  latter,  are  worth  far  more 
than  a  few  "curios."  And  so  with  my  guests.  I 
want  my  visitors  to  feel  free  to  move  around  and  about 
in  my  home,  as  healthy  men  and  women  ought  to  do, 
and  if  there  is  anything  in  the  way  of  such  action  the 
sooner  it  is  knocked  down  and  smashed  the  better  I 

211 


INDIAN    AND    SI  PKIIFLUITIKS    OF    LIFE 


sliall  like  it.  And  as  for  "enameled"  furniture:  if 
1  ft)und  any  of  it  introduced  into  my  liouse  Avliere  1  was 
constantly  in  danger  of  marring  it,  I  fear  my  "angry 

])assi()ns  would  rise,"  and  so 
would  the  polished  article,  to 
find  itself  at  the  next  moment 
on  the  wood])ile.  Human 
happiness  and  comfoi-t  are  of 
more  value  than  many  })ieces 
of  furniture,  and  he,  and  he 
only,  is  wise  who  kee|)s  life 
as  simple  as  possible,  and 
free  from  these  needless, 
labor-creating,  nerve-wear- 
ing luxuries  and  su})erfluities 
of  life. 

in  both  men's  and  wom- 
en's dress,  too,  something 
may  be  said  on  this  line. 
The  tendency  of  the  age  is 
to  add  and  add  and  add, 
until  we  are  burdened  by  the 
su|)erfluous.  Women  want 
hices,  em})roideries,  tucks, 
ruffles,  pleats,  and  ribbons; 
they  quilt,  braid,  hem,  and 
fell  to  a  fearful  and  wonder- 
ful extent,  —  all  adding 
QUEEXLiEST   WOMEN  IX    DIG-     i.^^^^^.^  troublc,    aud    carc  to 

NITY,    GRACE,   AND    CHARACTEH  .     .  „ 

I  HAVE  EVER  MET.  liie,  aud   dcprivuig    them  ot 

time  that  could  and  should 
be  more  wisely  and  profitably  spent.  No  one  loves  to 
see  woman  or  man  neater  or  better  dressed  than  I,  but 
there  is  a  point  of  simplicity  and  native  dignity  beyond 

212 


Tlih  \\lin>\S  ul>  .\1A.\  i  Kl.l  1(). 
THE  LAST  GREAT  CHIEF  OF 
THE     NAVAHOS.       ONE    OF    THE 


INDIAN   AND   SUPERFLUITIES   OF   LIFE 

which  no  one  can  go  without  getting  into  the  reahn  of 
needless,  wasteful  luxury  and  harmful  superfluity.  Some 
men  are  as  bad  as  some  women,  what  with  ties  for 
every  function  and  hour  of  the  day,  cuffs,  collars, 
vests,  and  creased  trousers,  all  of  which  must  be  a  la 
mode  and  au  fait.  To  me  these  things  reveal  as  much 
noil  compos  mentis  as  they  do  a  la  mode,  for  mind 
should  be,  and  is,  superior  to  an  excess  of  such  frivolity. 

Rose  Wood-Allen  Chapman  in  Good  Health  has 
sagely  written  upon  this  subject.     She  well  says: 

"The  one  important  thing  in  life  is  character;  your 
own  character,  the  character  of  your  husband,  your 
children,  your  friends.  All  other  things  should  be 
judged  by  their  bearing  upon  this  important  matter. 
Things  may  be  delightful  in  themselves;  but  if  they 
tend  to  add  to  your  worries,  if  they  are  a  barrier 
between  you  and  your  loved  ones,  if  they  interfere 
with  the  development  of  the  higher  faculties  of  your 
children,  they  become  undesirable,  inadvisable,  and 
should  be  classed  with  the  superfluities  of  life. 

"The  mother  who  prepares  for  her  baby  dainty, 
hand-made  garments,  wonderfully  trimmed  with  lace 
and  embroidery,  in  the  majority  of  instances  is  depriv- 
ing that  child  of  personal  love  and  care  that  rightfully 
belong  to  him.  What  does  he  care  for  such  finery.? 
He  wants  his  mother's  companionship,  and  for  himself 
perfect  freedom  for  all  forms  of  activity.  To  so  attire 
him  that  he  must  be  constantly  cautioned,  'Now  don't 
get  your  dress  dirty,'  is  to  interfere  with  one  of  his 
inalienable  rights.  The  wise  mother  will  make  her 
baby's  clothes  simple,  to  serve  as  a  background  for  his 
infantile  charms,  instead  of  taking  the  attention  aw^ay 
from  him  to  center  it  upon  elaborate  ornamentation. 

"  Many  housekeepers  there  are  who  bemoan  their 

213 


INDIAN   AND   SUPERFLUITIES   OF   LIFE 

inability  to  keep  up  the  interests  of  their  girlliood. 
They  have  no  time  now  to  phiy  the  piano,  to  read  inspir- 
ing hterature,  to  join  the  chib,  or  to  enter  upon  any 
philanthropic  work.  They  say  they  feel  their  depriva- 
tion; have  they  ever  tried  to  see  how  many  of  their 
household  tasks  could  be  eliminated  as  su})erfluous  ? 

"  1  have  been  in  homes  where  there  were  two  and 
sometimes  three  pairs  of  curtains  at  each  window. 
The  effect  was  rich,  but  one  whose  mind  was  awakened 
to  the  question  of  the  su})erfluities  could  but  think  of 
the  extra   work  such  hangings   entailed. 

''Then  there  are  the  'cozy  corners,'  the  Turkish 
divans  smothered  in  over-hanging  draperies,  which 
the  furniture  stores  are  so  eager  to  urge  u])on  their 
customers  as  'the  very  latest  style.'  Such  corners  are 
gathering-places  for  dust,  and  an  unnecessary  addition 
to  the  work  of  the  home. 

"  Heavy  carpets  on  the  floors  may  feel  soft  under 
foot,  but  they  are  hard  to  sweep,  are  never  really  clean, 
save  after  the  annual  beating,  and  so  are  both  unhy- 
gienic and  burdensome. 

''  Think  how  much  less  drudgery  must  be  performed 
by  the  woman  who  has  hard-wood  or  stained  floors 
with  a  few  medium-sized  rugs!  Her  floors  can  be 
wiped  up  ({uickly  with  a  damp  cloth,  and  her  rugs 
thoroughly  cleaned  with  a  minimum  amount  of  effort. 

"At  the  windows  this  same  woman  will  have  filmy 
net  curtains,  with  ruffled  border,  it  may  be,  that  are 
ordinarily  cleansed  by  putting  them  on  the  line  where 
the  wind  can  blow  the  dust  out  of  them;  or  can  easily 
be  laundered  when  more  thorough  cleaning  is  desired. 

"On  her  walls  will  be  a  few  artistic  pictures,  with  no 
overhanging  festoons  or  ribbons  to  catch  dust  and  add 
to  the  labor.     Bric-a-brac  will  be  conspicuous  for  its 

214 


INDIAN   AND   SUPERFLUITIES   OF   LIFE 

absence;  photographs  will  be  put  away,  mstead  of 
covering  her  dresser  and  the  walls  of  her  bedroom. 
In  a  word,  her  aim  will  be  to  have  her  home  light,  airy, 
artistically  furnished,  but  in  such  a  way  as  to  be  the 
least  possible  burden  to  her  and  to  her  family.  Hus- 
bands and  children  find  it  hard  to  be  careful  of  the 
things  that  have  been  bought  for  show.  Wliy  not 
dispense  with  them,  then,  and  have  only  that  which  is 
necessary   and   usable  ? 

"Many  housekeepers  have  learned  to  dispense  with 
unnecessary  furnishings,  but  are  still  slaves  to  elaborate 
meals,   especially  when   they  entertain. 

"It  is  wise,  in  the  first  place,  to  remember  that  the 
health  of  the  family  is  conserved  by  simplicity  in  the 
meals.  Even  though  they  are  now  used  to  a  larger 
variety  at  each  meal,  they  can  be  gradually  accustomed 
to  a  simple  diet.  No  soup  when  there  is  dessert  and  no 
dessert  when  there  is  soup,  is  a  very  good  rule  for 
dinner.  The  other  course  should  consist  of  a  meat 
substitute  and  only  two  vegetables.  A  simple  break- 
fast food,  with  bread  and  butter  and  fruit,  is  enough 
for  the  morning  meal;  while  an  equally  simple  supper 
should  be  entirely  satisfactory. 

"It  is  a  temptation  to  leave  the  paths  of  simplicity 
when  company  is  coming;  but  if  we  just  remember  that 
our  friends  come  to  see  us,  not  to  eat  our  food,  we  will 
find  it  easier  to  restrain  our  inclinations  in  this  direc- 
tion. Oftentimes  housewives  become  possessed  with 
a  spirit  of  emulation  which  leads  Mrs.  Smith  to  feel  that 
she  must  set  forth  a  more  elaborate  meal  than  Mrs. 
Jones  had  served,  while  INIrs.  Robinson  in  turn  strives 
to  eclipse  Mrs.  Smith,  and  as  a  result  meals  become  so 
complicated  as  to  be  most  burdensome  to  the  hostess 
and  almost  dangerous  to  the  guests.     Let  us  confine 

215 


INDIAN    AND   SUPERFLUITIES   OF   LIFE 

our  cli'orts  to  making  our  siiii])le  cntertainnicut  as 
attractive  as  }:)ossible,  and  furnishing  such  wit  and 
merriment  therewitli,  such  geniahty  and  kindhness,  as 
shall  make  our  guests  feel  that  they  have  partaken  of  a 
feast." 

I  have  already,  in  other  chapters,  commented  upon 
some  of  these  things,  as  revealed  in  the  light  of  the 
Indian's  life.  Their  lives  are,  perforce,  models  of 
sim])licity.  devoid  of  luxuries  and  also  of  su])erfluities. 
It  is  not  my  intent  to  suggest  that  we  should  revert  to 
their  method  of  living  a  simple  and  unluxurious  life, 
but  I  do  long  with  all  my  heart  that  we  might  take 
lesson  from  them,  and  find  the  golden  mean  between 
their  life  and  our  too  complex  and  superfluity-laden 
life.  If  health  and  happiness  are  the  ends  to  be 
attained  in  life  theij.  with  their  rude  simplicity,  have 
surpassed  us,  with  our  elegant  and  ornate  complexity. 
And  for  me  and  mine  I  prefer  health  and  hap])iness 
rather  than  all  the  superfluities  that  a  commercially- 
cursed,  bargain-counter,  curio-loving,  bric-a-brac  ador- 
ing, showy,  shoddy  civilization  can  give. 


216 


CHAPTER     XXI 

THE    INDIAN   AND    MENTAL   POISE 

/^N  a  trip  made  recently  from  Yuma  to  the  Salton 
^-^  Sea,  down  the  overflow  of  the  Colorado  River,  I 
found  occasion  to  watch  my  two  Indians  in  contrast 
with  four  white  men  of  more  than  ordinary  intelligence 
and  ability.  In  some  important  things  the  Indians  lost 
nothing    by    the    comparison.     Indeed,    several    times 


CAMPING   OUT   ON   THE   WAY   TO   THE    SALTOX   SEA. 


I  called  the  attention  of  my  white  companions  to  them, 
and  to  certain  characteristics  which  are  by  no  means 
confined  to  them,  but  that  belong  to  most  Indians,  and 
urged  their  emulation.  Some  of  these  will  form  the 
subject  of  this  chapter. 

One  member  of  my  party  was  a  "reverend"  —  a 
missionary.  He  was  a  fine,  open-hearted  fellow  whom 
we  all  liked,  but  every  once  in  a  while  —  indeed,  I 
ought  to  say  frequently  —  he  would  make  suggestions 
to  the  Indian  to  go  here,  or  go  there,  which  finally  called 

217 


THE    INDIAN    AND    MENTAL   POISE 


Y\M\     INDIAN     BlJATMAN. 

218 


fortli  (from  me)  a 
forceful  rebuke.  Let 
me  ex})lain  the  situ- 
ation fully.  When 
we  came  to  the  ])lace 
where  the  Colorado 
River  left  its  banks 
and  entered  a  mes- 
quite  forest,  its  waters 
were  naturally  much 
divided.  As  w^e  did 
not  know  wdiere  each 
current  led,  and  how 
soon  it  would  spread 
so  as  to  render  fur- 
ther progress  in  our 
boats  impossible,  it 
was  a  situation  that 
called  for  great 
knowledge  as  to  de- 
termining the  course 
of  the  best  and  deep- 
est current,  and  quick 
decision ;  for,  as  we 
were  carried  along 
among  mesquites,  a 
few  moments  of  in- 
decision meant  being 
thrust  into  a  mes- 
quite  tree,  perhaps, 
where  cruel  thorns 
spared  no  one, 
because  of  his  inde- 
cision.     Reader,   do 


THE  INDIAN  AND   MENTAL  POISE 

you  know  what  a  mesquite  is  ?  Its  proper  name  should 
be  "  me  scratch."  If  you  come  within  ten  feet  of  one  it 
verily  seems  to  reach  out  for  you  and  scratch  you  some- 
where. Imagine  your  thorniest  rosebush  multiplied 
by  fifty  and  all  concentrated  and  condensed  into  one 
tree  with  thorns  much  longer,  far  more  pointed,  and 
with  poison  lurking  on  the  end  of  them,  and  you  have 
a  not  very  much  exaggerated  idea  of  the  mesquite. 
Now  to  have  our  missionary  friend  bawling  out  all  the 
time,  "Better  go  this  way,"  or  "Better  go  that,"  was 
both  annoying  and  useless,  so  I  finally  told  him  I  had 
brought  the  Indian  because  I  knew  that  he  knew  a 
thousand-fold  more  of  such  a  current  and  how  to  get 
through  this  wilderness  of  mesquite  than  I  did.  "And," 
said  I,  "as  far  as  I  am  concerned,  i  should  feel  it  was 
an  impertinence  for  me  to  make  even  a  suggestion  to 
the  Indian.  He  knows  where  I  guess,  and  yet  as  you 
know,  I  have  had  far  more  experience  in  this  kind  of 
thing  than  you  have.  Don't  you  think  it  wiser  for  you 
to  add  a  little  more  silence  to  your  possessions  ?  " 

He  was,  as  I  have  said,  a  royal-hearted  fellow,  and 
he  took  my  rebuke  in  a  manly.  Christian  way,  for  a 
few  moments'  reflection  showed  him  that  what  I  said 
was  wisdom. 

Now,  while  these  wild  and  foolish  suggestions  were 
being  made  to  the  Indian,  what  did  he  do  ?  It  was 
most  interesting  to  me  to  watch  him.  Instead  of 
replying  and  arguing  with  a  lot  of  vehement  words, 
he  smiled  quietly,  looked  at  me  to  see  if  I  approved  of 
the  suggestion,  and  when  he  saw  my  absolutely  impas- 
sive face,  went  on  following  his  own  course.  Had  he 
been  a  white  man  —  or  like  most  white  men  —  he 
would  have  shouted  back  that  he  was  going  some 
other  way,  or  called  his  adviser  a  fool,  or  informed  him, 

219 


THE   INDIAN   AND   MENTAL   POISE 

that    he    know    his    business,    or    some    other   equally 
agreeable  thini]j. 

This  serenity  of  mind  in  the  Indian  is  often  called 
impassiveness    or   stolidity.     It   shows   how    little   the 


IN    THE    iJOATS,    I\    THE    KAIN,    OX     OUU    WAV    TO    THE    SALTUN    iSEA. 


critics  have  known  of  the  Indian  to  speak  thus.  They 
are  as  sensitive  as  children,  morbidly  so  sometimes, 
but  they  have  the  self-control  not  to  show  it,  and  in 
matters  like  this,  where  they  are  sure  their  knowledge 

220 


THE   INDIAN  AND  MENTAL   POISE 

is  superior  to  that  of  their  adviser,  they  go  on  with  a 
proud  disregard  of  criticism  or  censure. 

This  calmness  was  also  shown  in  the  face  of  danger. 
Several  times  we  came  to  places  where  there  was  both 
difficulty  and  danger.  We  had  three  boats.  In  the 
first  were  Jim  (the  Indian)  and  myself,  seeking  out 
the  way;  in  the  second,  Indian  Joe  and  Mr.  Louis 
Francis  Brown  (business  manager  of  the  Burton 
Holmes  lectures) ;  and  in  the  third  his  reverence  and 
two  others.  When  we  came  to  the  thrilling  places, 
Jim  soon  learned  that  he  was  to  take  the  responsi- 
bility, save  where  there  was  time  and  opportunity  to 
discuss  matters  with  me,  and  with  a  dignified  self- 
reliance  he  made  his  choice,  and  then  awaited  re- 
sults. If  they  were  unpleasant,  as  they  often  were, 
there  was  no  murmuring,  no  shouting,  no  remonstrance. 
He  took  things  as  they  came,  and  made  the  best  of  them. 
The  second  boat  followed,  and  there  was  little  more  said 
there  than  in  our  boat;  but  from  the  third  came  a 
constant  babble  of  voices,  cries  to  do  this  or  that, 
shouts  of  warning,  remonstrance,  and  fault-finding. 
I  could  not  help  contrasting  the  demeanor  of  the 
Indians  with  that  of  the  civilized  whites,  and  wishing 
that  the  latter  could  and  would  learn  the  lesson  so 
clearly  taught. 

The  quickness  of  Jim's  observations  and  his  deci- 
sions were  remarkable,  and  I  wished  my  children, 
and  others  too,  might  have  gone  to  school  to  him  for 
a  year  or  two.  He  saw  where  the  sand  bars  were  that 
I  could  not  see;  he  could  tell  which  way  the  wind 
was  blowing,  when  to  me  it  seemed  to  be  blowing 
several  directions  at  once;  he  was  generally  able  to 
tell  where  the  largest  amount  of  water  was  flowing,  and 
only  two  or  three  times  did  he  make  a  mistake  so  that 

221 


THE   INDIAN   AND   MENTAL  POISE 

wo  had  to  turn  l)ack.  And  when  those  times  came, 
there  was  no  gnimbliug,  no  murmuring,  no  finding 
fault.  He  accepted  the  disagreeable  inevitable  just 
as  easily  and  readily  as  he  accepted  the  pleasant. 

This  silence  and  serenity  in  the  face  of  annoyances 
is  a  very  pleasing  feature  of  Indian  life  to  me.  What  is 
the  use  of  fault-finding  and  complaining  over  disagree- 
able things  that  cannot  be  helped  ?  I  have  just  had 
an  example  (and  he  is  but  one  of  scores  that  occur  to 
my  mind)  of  the  oj)posite  spirit  shown  by  a  very  pioud 
and  haughty  member  of  the  white  race.  We  were  on 
the  car  together,  coming  from  the  East.  The  first 
time  he  had  a  meal  in  the  dining-car  he  came  back 
furious:  the  chicken  was  cooked  two  or  three  days 
ago,  and  w^as  weeks  old  to  begin  with ;  all  the  provisions 
were  equally  bad,  the  service  was  abominable,  and  the 
charges  infamous.  Then  the  speed  of  the  train  came 
in  for  censure.  They  did  things  differently  on  the 
New  York  Central  or  the  Pennsylvania,  (forgetful  of 
the  fact  that  those  roads  run  through  thickly  populated 
centers,  and  have  a  passenger  patronage  ten  times  as 
large  as  is  possible  to  the  western  railways  that  pass 
through  unsettled  and  barren  regions).  Then,  though 
it  was  perfectly  delicious  weather,  he  had  to  kick 
against  its  being  warm  and  disagreeable,  and  so  on 
ad  libitum  until  I  was  sick  of  him,  as  was  everybody 
else  in  the  car.  In  twenty-six  years  of  association  with 
the  Indians,  I  never  met  with  one  such  disagreeable 
grumbler.  The  white  race  retains  that  characteristic 
practically  to  itself.  If  things  are  disagreeable  and 
can  be  changed,  the  Indian  calmly  and  deliberately 
goes  to  work  to  change  them.  If  they  are  unchange- 
able he  serenely  and  silently  bears  them.  It  is  more 
■^anly,  more  agreeable,  more  philosophical. 

222 


THE   INDIAN   AND   MENTAL   POISE 

Time  and  again  I  have  had  white  men  with  me  on 
various  trips  who  needed  to  learn  this  simple  and  useful 
lesson.  They  made  of  themselves  intolerable  nuisances 
by  their  whining,  whimpering,  and  complaining. 
Those  of  my  readers  who  care  to  read  Chapter  XV 
in  my  "In  and  Around  the  Grand  Canyon,"  and  the 
story  of  the  Britisher  on  page  18  and  onward  in  "The 
Indians  of  the  Painted  Desert  Region,"  will  see  that  I 
know  that  of  which  I  speak.  And  these  are  but  two 
experiences  out  of  many  similar  ones.  Yet  I  have 
been  with  Indians  again  and  again  in  places  of  distress, 
deprivation,  and  danger,  and  in  all  my  experiences 
have  not  heard  a  half  hour's  unpleasant  w^ords.  Once 
I  started  to  explore  a  series  of  side  canyons  of  the  great 
Grand  Canyon.  My  guide  was  Sin-ye-la,  an  intelligent 
Havasupai.  We  had  a  most  arduous  trip;  ran  out  of 
water  and  food;  our  horses  gave  out  and  we  had  to 
catch,  saddle,  and  ride  unbroken  steeds,  and  finally 
he  caught  a  wild  mule  upon  which  we  placed  the  pack. 
The  horrors  and  anguish  of  that  trip  I  have  never 
written,  yet  there  was  not  a  suggestion  of  complaining 
from  Sin-ye-la,  until  I  decided  to  leave  the  canyons 
and  go  across  the  desert  to  a  certain  spot  where  he  did 
not  wish  to  accompany  me.  Even  then  he  merely 
stated  his  case  with  little  or  no  argument  and  when 
I  proved  obdurate,  refused  to  accompany  me,  and  in 
fifteen  minutes  we  parted,  good  friends,  he  to  go  his 
way  and  I  mine. 

Another  time,  as  recorded  in  my  Canyon  book,  I 
was  caught  in  a  marble  trap  with  Wa-lu-tha-ma, 
where  it  seemed  impossible  that  we  could  ever  escape. 
The  Indian's  calmness  was  almost  too  much.  He  was 
almost  as  resigned  as  a  Mahommedan  who  believes  in 
Fate.     Yet,  though  I  remonstrated  with  him  for  his 

223 


THE   INDIAN   AND   MENTAL   POISE 


des])airing  attitude  so  that  we  eventually  got  out,  I 
believe  I  would  rather  have  that  hraveiy  of  desj)air 
which   dares    to   face   death    without   complaining   or 

whimpering,  than 
the  fault-finding, 
"Why  did  you 
bring  me  into  such 
dangers?''  or 
"Shall  I  ever  get 
out  of  this  horrible 
place  ?"  that  some 
white  men  indulge 
in. 

When,  on  the 
Sal  ton  trip,  we 
came  to  the  begin- 
ning of  the  most 
dangerous  part 
where  I  had  been 
told  we  should  go 
"fifty  miles  in  fifty 
m  i  n  u  t  e  s  ,' '  and 
there  w^ere  many 
rapids  which  would 
dash  our  boats  to 
pieces,  and  where 
undermined  cliffs, 
forty,     fifty,     and 

WALUTHAMA,  MY    HAVASUPAI    GUIDE.  mOrC        fcct         lngll, 

were  likely  to  be 
suddenly  precipitated  into  the  river,  and  might  fall  upon 
us  and  our  boats  and  send  us  to  instant  destruction; 
when  1  told  my  Indian  of  these  dangers  he  calmly 
looked  me  in  the  eye  and  answered  my  question,  "You 


.^^ 


THE   INDIAN   AND   MENTAL   POISE 

afraid  to  go,  Jim?"  with  a  counter  question:  "You 
afraid?"  And  when  I  said  "No,"  and  answered  his 
further  "You  swim?"  with  a  "Yes!"  he  immediately 
repKed;  "All  right,  I  go." 

Of  course  I  do  not  wish  for  one  moment  to  suggest 
that  this  virtue  of  courage  is  not  the  white  man's.  For 
love  of  home  and  country  white  men  will  go  to  death 
with  a  smile  on  their  lips.  But  in  work  which  the  world 
does  not  see,  where  men  are  simply  paid  two  dollars  a 
day  wages,  to  face  danger  and  possible  death  as  a  mat- 
ter of  course,  this  I  have  found  rare  with  the  white 
man,  and  very  common  with  an  Indian.  The  facing 
of  danger  and  death  is  part  of  their  every-day  life.  It 
calls  for  the  exercise  of  no  special  virtues.  Strong  in 
body,  daring  in  mind,  fearless  in  soul,  duty  must  be 
done  and  done  unhesitatingly,  regardless  of  whether 
danger  or  death  are  lurking  near.  I  am  free  to  confess 
this  large  bold  faith  in  life  and  the  Supreme  pleases  me. 
The  man  who  is  always  seeking  to  guard  his  own  life, 
who  refuses  to  run  any  risks,  who  never  goes  except 
where  all  is  safe,  may  be  a  more  comfortable  man  to 
live  with,  but  as  for  me,  I  prefer  the  spirit  of  the  man 
who  dares  and  trusts;  the  man  who  does  the  unsafe 
things  because  it  is  his  duty  to  do  them,  and  who  faces 
death  and  thinks  nothing  of  it.  The  man  who  is  prod- 
igal of  his  strength  and  courage  and  faith  is  the  man 
who  saves  them.  The  man  who  is  constantly  watchful 
lest  he  overdo,  who  refuses  to  run  any  risks,  who 
would  rather  run  away  than  dare,  is  the  one  who,  in 
the  end,  will  be  found  short  in  manhood  and  worthy 
accomplishment. 

So  I  emulate  the  Indian  in  these  things,  and  seek 
to  be  like  him.  This  prodigality  and  strength  in  work 
calls  for  more  comment.     Labor  unions  are  making 

225 


THE   INDIAN   AND    MENTAL   POISE 

one  of  I  he  greatest  mistakes  of  their  career  in  restricting 
the  full  exercise  of  a  man's  energy.  In  limiting  his 
daily  output  they  are  bucking  against  that  which  every 
man  should  strive  to  possess,  viz.,  the  spirit  of  prodigal 
energy  in  work.  My  Indian  would  row  all  day,  and 
after  a  few  hours  of  especially  hard  work  I  would  ask 
if  I  might  not  relieve  him.  "No;  like  'em,"  was  his 
reply  invariably.  He  liked  his  work.  It  was  a  joy 
to  him.  What  was  the  result.?  A  body  of  tested 
steel;  lungs  equal  to  every  demand;  muscles  that 
responded  to  every  strain ;  eyes  as  clear  as  stars ;  brain 
quick  and  alert  because  of  a  healthy  body  made  and 
kept  so  by  hard,  continuous  labor.  We  are  told  that 
the  Indians  are  lazy.  It  is  not  true.  Some  few  may 
be,  but  the  Indians  of  the  Southwest  do  their  work 
heartily  and  well,  and  with  a  prodigal  energy  that  is 
as  novel  and  startling  to  most  white  men  as  it  is  educa- 
tive and  suggestive  to  them.  As  for  me,  I  have  learned 
the  lesson.  When  I  reach  a  station  and  have  time, 
I  walk  to  my  hotel,  and  refuse  to  allow  any  one  to  carry 
my  usually  heavy  grips.  I  seek  for  the  physical  exer- 
cise. Many  a  time  I  arrange  for  an  arduous  exploring 
trip  in  order  to  compel  myself  to  great  exertions.  I 
know  that  when  I  get  started  I  must  go  on,  and  in  the 
going  on,  though  I  get  very  weary,  I  know  I  am  develop- 
ing power  and  hoarding  up  health,  energy,  and  strength 
for  future  use.  A  few  weeks  ago  I  started  with  a  com- 
rade for  a  few  hundreds  of  miles  of  tramping  and  riding 
over  the  Colorado  Desert,  up  mountain  trails,  through 
waterless  wastes.  My  part  of  the  journey  was  short- 
ened by  circumstances  over  which  I  had  no  control,  but 
my  assistant  and  artist  took  the  whole  trip,  arduous 
and  exhausting  though  it  was,  and  I  envied  them  and 
regretted  my  inability  to  go  along. 

226 


THE   INDIAN   AND   MENTAL   POISE 

Another  thing  my  Indian  helpers  have  taught  me. 
That  is  a  prompt  readiness  to  obey  in  any  service  they 
have  agreed  to  perform,  or  anything  that  comes  legiti- 
mately in  the  course  of  their  work.  There  is  no  hold- 
ing back,  no  remonstrance,  no  finding  fault,  no  crying 
out  that  they  were  not  engaged  to  do  this.  They 
perform  the  service,  not  only  without  a  murmur,  but 
with  a  ready  willingness  that  is  delightful  in  this  age 
when  every  one  expects  a  tip  for  the  slightest  service. 
This  comes  from  two  things,  viz.,  a  strong,  healthy 
body  which  responds  willingly  to  any  ordinary  demands 
upon  it,  and  a  healthy  state  of  mind  which  neither 
resents  service  nor  wishes  to  measure  every  expendi- 
ture of  energy  in  a  monetary  balance.  We  are 
making  a  grand  mistake  in  basing  our  present-day 
civilization  upon  material  wealth.  "What  is  there 
in  it  for  me.?"  should  be  more  than  a  query  applying 
to  mere  cash.  What  is  there  in  it  of  service,  of  help- 
fulness to  my  fellow-man,  of  healthfulness  to  myself,  of 
increase  of  my  own  strength  and  power.  The  men 
who  are  relied  upon  by  employers  and  by  the  nation 
are  not  the  men  who  have  selfishly  sought  their  own 
monetary  gain.  There  is  no  doubt  that  such  seekers 
often  seem  to  gain  and  do  really  gain  a  temporary 
advantage;  but  it  is  not  a  real  advantage.  It  is  an 
advantage  of  pocket  gained  at  a  loss  of  manhood, 
physical,  mental,  and  spiritual,  and  that  man  who  is 
not  worth  more  in  body,  mind,  and  soul  than  his  pocket 
can  never  be  much  of  a  man. 


227 


CHAPTER    XXII 
THE   INDIAN  AND   SELF-RESTRAINT 

T^EW  of  the  superior  white  race  would  think  of  look- 
-*■  ing  to  the  Indian  for  examples  of  self-restraint,  but 
I  can  give  them  here  one  of  the  most  marked  examples 
in  history.  Before  the  advent  of  the  white  man  in 
America  the  various  aboriginal  tribes  roamed  over  the 
plains,  the  mountains,  the  foothills,  and  in  the  forests, 
and  with  snare  and  trap,  gin  and  bow  and  arrow 
caught  or  slew  the  game  needed  for  food.  These 
tribes  were  often  hostile  to  each  other;  they  trespassed 
on  each  other's  hunting-grounds,  and  in  consequence, 
often  fought  in  deadly  wars  which  came  nigh  to  exter- 
minating some  of  them.  They  were  not  regardful, 
therefore,  one  would  think,  of  the  rights  or  needs  of 
others  than  themselves  to  the  game  they  hunted;  and 
it  is  absurd  (so  the  school-books  would  tell  us)  to 
assume  that  they  would  be  provident  or  careful  to 
preserve  game  for  the  future.  Hence  they  would 
slay  ruthlessly  (the  same  authorities  would  doubtless 
declare),  indifferent  as  to  the  days  to  come  and  their 
future  needs,  merely  seeking  food  for  to-day,  and 
gorging  upon  it  to  repletion.  In  this  case,  however, 
the  school-books  would  be  wrong.  In  the  hundreds 
or  thousands  of  years  that  the  Indians  controlled  this 
great  continent  they  never  once  "killed  out"  any  one 
of  their  hunting-fields. 

When  the  white  race  appeared  upon  the  scene, 
game  of  every  kind,—  fish,  flesh,  and  fowl, —  was  plen- 
tiful.    Trappers  and  hunters  went  up  and  down  the 

229 


THE   INDIAN   AND   SELF-RESTRAINT 

rivers,  where  beaver  and  otter,  musk  and  mink,  lived, 
and  through  the  forests  where  birds  nested  and  deer, 
antelope,  and  other  game  browsed  ;  climbed  the  moun- 
tains where  bear  and  ])uma  lodged,  and  ever  their 
bales  of  skins,  furs,  peltries,  and  hides  loaded  the 
canoes  and  the  decks  of  returning  vessels.  Here  w^as 
the  best  proof  of  the  Indian's  self-restraint  and  provi- 
dent foresight  for  the  future,  in  that  the  white  man 
found  such  an  abundance  of  all  kinds  of  game  ready  to 
his   hand. 

Then  came  the  master  mind  of  an  Astor  who 
valued  money  more  than  the  future.  What  did  it 
matter  to  him  that  game  of  a  hundred  kinds  disap- 
peared from  the  face  of  the  earth  provided  he  could 
make  a  fortune.^  What  cared  he  that  men  and 
w omen  would  starve  in  the  days  to  come  so  long  as  he 
could  pile  up  his  hoard  of  pelts,  and  sell  them  to  add  to 
his  w^ealth  ?  Modern  commercialism,  that  damned 
and  damning  spirit  of  our  civilization  that  sees  nothing 
but  dollars,  that  would  shut  out  the  glory  of  the  sun 
rather  than  miss  the  ten-cent  piece  close  at  hand, 
entered  into  the  game.  Then  the  sportsman  and  the 
pot  hunter  of  the  white  race  came  also,  and  between 
them  and  the  Buffalo  Bills  who  shot  down  buffaloes 
by  the  thousand  for  food  to  supply  the  builders  of  the 
transcontinental  railways,  in  half  a  generation  they 
cleared  the  prairies  of  the  millions  of  noble  buffaloes 
which  used  to  roam  in  vast  herds,  left  nothing  but 
slender  bands  or  solitary  animals  of  the  moose  and 
elk,  and  drove  these  into  almost  inaccessible  solitudes 
for  self-preservation,  and  nearly  stripped  the  country 
of  deer,  antelope,  wild  turkeys,  and  sage  hens.  Then 
they  passed  laws  to  protect  "game,"  making  a  close 
season  so  that  the  Indians,  w  ho,  in  their  days  of  freedom 

230 


THE   INDIAN   AND   SELF-RESTRAINT 

and  wildness,  needed  no  law  but  their  own  good  sense 
and  self-restraint,  cannot  now  shoot  at  all  save  in  the 
few  days  when  the  restrictions  are  removed.  So  that, 
practically  speaking,  the  Indian  now  has  no  hunting- 
ground;  he  is  debarred  from  obtaining  wild  game  for 
food  for  himself  and  family,  and  all  because  of  the 
infernal  greed  and  equally  infernal  brutality  of  the 
pot-hunter.  Here,  then,  is  a  national  proof  —  for 
what  I  have  said  is  practically  true  of  every  state  in  the 
country  —  that  the  white  race  has  much  to  learn  of 
self-restraint  from  the  despised  Indian.  Self-restraint 
as  to  greed, —  for,  until  the  advent  of  the  white,  one 
Indian  never  sought  to  build  up  mere  wealth  at  the 
expense  of  or  to  the  injury  or  detriment  of  his  fellows. 
This  was  the  white  man's  way,  not  his!  He  practised 
self-restraint,  for  the  Indians  knew  and  realized  that  if 
the  animals  were  killed  too  closely  the  species  would 
soon  become  extinct,  and  future  generations,  if  not 
themselves,  have  to  suffer. 

To  most  people  the  Indian  is  a  careless  creature, 
content  if  his  belly  is  filled  to-day,  improvident  for  the 
future,  and  therefore  unwise,  unthoughtful,  and  to  be 
condemned.  May  it  not  be  in  this  apparent  careless- 
ness for  the  future  the  Indian  is  wiser  than  we,  that  he 
is  deliberately  exercising  a  beneficial  restraint?  Think 
of  the  wild  hurly-burly  of  our  struggle  to  accumulate, 
and  then  consider  the  expense,  the  worry,  the  endless 
care  of  protecting  that  which  we  have  accumulated. 
One  far  wiser  than  the  sages  of  to-day  once  declared 
that  we  were  to  "take  no  thought  for  the  morrow," 
and  in  His  whole  teaching  and  life  reprobated  the 
struggle  for  wealth,  and  the  life  of  selfish  ease  that 
comes  with  its  attainment. 

One  of  the  greatest  curses  of  our  present  age  and 

231 


TIIK    INDIAN   AND   SELF  RESTRAINT 

civilization  is  love  of  ease,  craving  for  luxury,  desire 
to  "have  a  good  time."  We  worship  money  because 
it  ])rings  these  things,  forgetful  of  the  teachings  of 
history  that  luxury  and  ease  beget  sensuality  and  vice, 
and  these  in  turn  beget  disease,  decay,  and  death. 
I  am  opposed  to  great  money-getting  on  this  account, 
and  would  not  amass  a  fortune  if  I  could.  As  for 
leaving  large  sums  of  money  to  my  children,  especially 
my  sons,  nothing  could  ever  induce  me  to  do  it.  If 
much  money  should  ever  come  to  me  I  hereby  serve 
notice  upon  all  concerned  that  I  shall  spend  it,  wisely 
and  usefully,  as  my  best  judgment  dictates,  as  soon 
as  I  can,  and  anyhow  get  rid  of  it  so  that  no  son  of 
mine  shall  say  that  the  money  I  left  him  helped  him 
on  the  downward   path. 

The  Indian  know^s  well  the  lesson  that  physical 
health  comes  only  by  the  exercise  of  the  body,  therefore 
he  definitely  refuses  any  course  of  life  that  would 
prevent  it;  he  welcomes  for  himself,  his  wife,  his 
sons,  and  his  daughters  physical  work;  he  also  know^s 
that  mental  and  spiritual  improvement  come  only 
by  the  exercise  of  mental  and  spiritual  faculties,  and 
he  shuns  everything  that  stultifies  them.  Did  he 
know  English,  he  could  sing  with  Thomas  Gray: 

"  From  toil  he  wins  his  spirits  light, 

From  busy  day  the  peaceful  night : 

Rich,  from  the  very  want  of  wealth, 

In  heaven's  best  treasures,  peace  and  health." 

And  he  puts  into  practical  life  what  another  of  our 
sages  w^ell  expressed  wdien  he  said:  "Occupation  and 
exercise  are  the  hand-maidens  of  purity  and  strength." 
Too  often  we  merely  read  these  wise  words.  The 
Indian  lives  them.     In  this  the  white  race  can  well 

232 


THE   INDIAN   AND   SELF-RESTRAINT 

imitate  him.  He  faces  hardship  and  danger  with  eag- 
erness that  thereby  he  may  develop  courage  and 
strength.  He  takes  his  sons  and  punishes  them  in 
what  we  should  call  a  cruel  manner  to  develop  fortitude ; 
he  sends  them  out  into  the  desert,  mountain,  and  forest 
solitudes  that  there  they  may  meet  and  talk  with  Those 
Above.  Every  youth  or  young  man  who  hopes  to  be 
a  "medicine  man"  goes  out  to  some  such  solitary 
place.  He  takes  no  food,  no  nourishment  of  any 
kind,  and  fasts  several  days  and  nights.  He  drinks 
nothing  but  a  little  water.  He  sleeps  as  little  as  pos- 
sible. Then  if  spirits  come  to  him  he  must  obey  the 
teachings  and  requirements  of  each  one.  These 
teachings  and  requirements  demand  the  suppression  of 
the  natural  instincts  and  desires,  and  the  exercise  of 
positive  restraints  to  an  extent  that  the  greatest  religious 
devotee  of  the  white  race  would  scarcely  be  willing  to 
submit  to.  One  spirit  demands  that  water  be  drank 
but  once  a  day,  no  matter  how  hot  the  weather;  another 
that  no  food  shall  be  taken  on  three  days  out  of  each 
w^eek;  another  that  no  hide  shall  be  made  into  moc- 
casins, and  so  on.  This,  therefore,  means  a  life  of 
self-denial  and  restraint  that  surpasses  anything  known 
in  civilization.  Our  Catholic  priests  take  a  vow  of 
perpetual  chastity  and  obedience,  the  members  of  the 
religious  orders  go  further  and  pledge  themselves  to 
perpetual  poverty,  but  these  Indian  medicine  men, 
who  accept  the  aid  of  many  spirits,  —  ten,  twenty,  and 
even  thirty,  — ■  are  limited  and  restricted  in  their  lives 
to  a  degree  that  is  as  astonishing  as  it  is,  to  the  majority 
of  the  white  race,  unknown. 

Now,  while  the  specific  acts  of  restraint  of  the  Indian 
may  not  appeal  to  me,  the  spirit  of  them  is  much  needed 
by   our   whole    race.     Self-restraint,    self-denial,    self- 

233 


THE   INDIAN   AND   SELF-RESTRAINT 

control,  are  the  buhvarks  of  spiritual  power.  He 
only  is  strong  in  spirit  who  can  control  himself,  lience 
I  would  that  the  white  race  would  learn  these  lessons 
from   the  Indian. 

Browning  thoroughly  believed  in  this  s])irit  of 
self-restraint,  self-sacrifice,  self-control.  In  his  Rabbi 
Ben  Ezra  he  preaches  some  strong  doctrines.  Nothing 
is  more  needed  to-day  than  the  following  robust  and 
forceful  words  put  into  practical  every-day  living: 

"  Then,  Avelcome  each  rebuff 
That  turns  earth's  smoothness  rough, 

Each  sting  that  bids,  not  sit,  nor  stand,  but  go! 
Be  our  joys  three  parts  pain. 
Strive  and  hold  cheap  the  strain. 

Learn,  never  mind  the  pang ;  dare,  never  grudge  the  throe !  " 


234 


CHAPTER    XXIII 
THE    INDIAN   AND   AFFECTATION 

"jV/TOST  people  of  the  white  race  may  learn  from  the 
-^  ■'■  Indian  in  the  matter  of  affectation.  Few  of  us 
are  simple  and  natural  in  our  social  manners.  My 
own  family  often  joke  me,  when,  in  answering  the 
telephone,  I  respond  in  what  they  call  my  "dressy 
tone."  The  other  day  a  lady,  whose  husband  is  a 
college  professor,  mistook  me  for  a  distinguished  eastern 
psychologist  whose  surname  happens  to  be  the  same  as 
mine.  Until  she  discovered  her  mistake  she  "minced 
and  mouthed"  in  a  most  ludicrous  fashion  (how  I 
wish  she  could  have  seen  herself  as  I  saw  her!)  merely 
because  she  thought  I  was  a  prominent  man  in  the 
field  wherein  her  husband  was  a  more  humble  member. 
The  criticism  on  my  own  "dressy  tone"  is  a  perfectly 
just  one.  I  find  myself,  often,  "  putting  on  style" 
because  I  want  to  appear  "my  best."  After  due  con- 
sideration I  have  decided  to  confess  that  —  like  most 
people  —  I  have  a  variety  of  "celluloid  smiles"  which 
unconsciously  I  put  on  or  off  as  occasion  requires. 
We  are  not  simple,  not  natural  in  our  relationships 
one  with  another.  We  feel  that  we  must  "make  an 
impression,"  that  we  must  "appear  well."  The 
result  is  we  are  unnatural,  affected,  often  deceptive, 
and  many  a  time  disagreeable.  Affectation  in  speech 
and  manner  is  always  a  sign  of  mental  meanness,  — 
of  what  is  commonly  called  vulgarity,  and  is  never  to 
be  commended  but  is  always  to  be  condemned. 

On  the  other  hand,  if  the  President  of  the  United 

235 


APACHE   INDIAN   WHO   REFUSED   TO    "PUT   ON   STYLE "   TO    PLEASE   THE   WHITE   MAN. 


THE    INDIAN   AND   AFFECTATION 

States  were  to  visit  a  tribe  of  iincontaminated  Indians, 
as,  for  instance,  the  Navahos,  they  would  treat  him  in 
exactly  the  same  manner  as  they  would  the  humblest 
citizen;  except,  of  course,  that  if  the  president  asked 
for  a  pow-wow  they  would  give  him  one,  and  treat  his 
words  with  respectful  deference.  But  there  would  be 
no  affectation  in  their  dealings  with  him,  no  putting  on 
of  airs  or  style.  With  frank,  open  directness,  with  the 
respect  they  show,  as  a  rule,  to  each  other,  and  no  more, 
they  would  listen  to  all  he  had  to  say  and  give  hearty 
and  manly  response  of  approval  or  disapproval.  They 
have  no  "company  manners,"  no  changes  of  voice 
which  are  used  according  to  the  social  status  of  the 
listener.  There  are  no  snobs  among  them.  "A  man's 
a  man  for  a'  that,"  no  matter  whether  he  wears  an  old 
army  overcoat  and  a  top  hat  or  merely  a  tight  skin 
and   his  gee-string. 

The  white  race,  too,  is  fearfully  affected  in  its  pre- 
tense at  knowing  more  than  it  can  know.  We  are  all 
ashamed  to  say,  "I  don't  know!"  I  believe  this 
applies  more  truthfully  to  women  than  to  men.  Since 
the  era  of  the  woman's  club,  the  gentle  sex  has  been 
wild  to  accumulate  knowledge,  and  sadly  too  often, 
it  is  content  to  appear  to  have  the  knowledge  rather 
than  appear  ignorant.  One  has  but  to  look  over  the 
programs  of  a  score  or  a  hundred  women's  clubs,  as  I 
have  recently  done,  to  see  proof  of  this  in  the  vast 
range  many  of  them  take  in  a  single  season.  They 
crowd  into  an  hour's  or  two  hours'  session  what  no 
person  living  can  get  a  reasonable  grasp  of  in  less  than 
from  three  months  to  a  year  of  fairly  consistent  and 
persistent  study.  They  jump  from  "The  Romantic 
School  of  Music,"  one  week  to  "The  Effect  of  the 
Renaissance  upon  Gothic  Art,"  the  next,  and  the  third 

237 


THE   INDIAN   AND   AFFECTATION 

week  finds  llieiii  .swallowing  a  concentrated  jjill  on 
"The  Poets  of  the  Victorian  Era,"  while  on  the  fourth 
they  completely  master  all  that  can  he  learned  of 
"The  Franciscan  iNIission  Epoch  in  California  and  Its 
Influence    u})on    the    Indians." 

Yet  let  it  not  be  thought  that  I  am  not  a  heliever  in 
education  for  women,  women's  clubs,  and  the  like. 
I  believe  in  everything  that  really  Jielps.  And  if  these 
clubs  would  compel  mental  exercise  enough  to  give  a 
fair  grasp  of  one  subject  a  year,  they  woultl  be  doing 
work  of  incalculable  benefit.  But  this  smattering  of 
knowledge,  this  thin  spreading  out  of  scraps  of  informa- 
tion, feed  no  one's  mind,  and  the  pretense  that  comes 
from  an  assumed  knowledge  does  the  mind  and  soul 
of  the  pretender  more  harm  than  a  dozen  clubs  can 
eradicate  in  a  lifetime.  Hence,  let  us  become  simple- 
minded,  as  the  Indians.  They  "don't  know,"  and 
they  know  they  don't  know,  and  they  are  willing  to 
say  so. 

There  is  another  affectation  to  which  I  must  refer. 
We  Americans  pretend  to  be  democratic,  yet  we 
have  a  caste  of  wealth  that  is  more  disgusting,  de- 
grading, and  demoralizing  than  the  Hindoo  castes, 
or  the  social  scale  of  European  aristocracy.  We 
"kow  tow"  to  an  English  lord  as  if  he  were  a  little  god, 
and  we  bow  and  scrape  and  mince  our  words  when  we 
come  in  contact  with  the  nouveaii  ricJie  of  our  own 
land,  just  as  if  they  were  made  of  difterent  material 
from  ourselves.  The  space  given  in  our  new^spapers 
to  the  most  trivial  doings  of  Alice  Roosevelt,  both  before 
and  after  she  married  Congressman  Longworth;  the 
recital  of  the  actions  of  the  "society"  few, —  the  Van- 
derbilts,  Astors,  Goulds,  Carnegies,  Ilarrimans,  Fishes, 
and   the   rest,  —  are   proofs  of  our  affected  snobbism. 

238 


THE   INDIAN   AND   AFFECTATION 

I  have  not  yet  attained  to  the  mental  serenity  and  calm 
philosophy  of  the  Indian,  but  I  am  seeking  it,  where 
I  shall  judge  all  men  and  women  not  by  their  exterior 
circumstances  of  wealth,  position,  dress,  or  birth,  but 
by  inherent  character,  perfection  of  body,  force  of 
mind,  and  beauty  of  soul. 


239 


CHAPTER     XXIV 

THE  INDIAN  AND  ART  WORK 

TT^VEN  our  artists  and  designers  may  learn  much  of 
-*— ^  great  importance  from  the  Indian.  While  to  most 
of  my  readers  it  may  come  as  a  surprise  that  I  claim 
great  artistic  powers  for  the  Indian,  yet  no  one  can  care- 
fully study  the  basketry  and  pottery  of  the  Amerind 
and  not  know  the  perfect  justice  of  the  claim.  In  my 
larger  work  on  this  subject  *  I  have  fairly  discussed  the 
ability  of  the  Indians  in  this  regard;  and  to  those 
who  are  not  aware  of  the  vast  debt  the  white  race  owes 
to  the  aboriginal  woman  in  artistic  as  well  as  other 
lines,  I  earnestly  commend  a  perusal  of  that  masterly 
work  by  a  conscientious  and  thorough  student,  Otis 
T.  Mason,  of  the  Smithsonian  Institution,  entitled 
"Woman's  Share  in  Primitive  Culture." 

In  reference  to  their  basketry,  however,  more  than 
a  mere  passing  mention  is  required.  The  Indian 
weaver  shows  marvelous  ability  in  the  creation  of  form, 
color,  stitch,  and  design.  Turning  to  Nature  for  her 
original  inspirations  she  is  not  a  mere  copyist  of  what 
others  have  done.  All  her  forms  are  based  upon  utility, 
and  therefore  meet  the  first  and  highest  requirement 
of  all  art  when  applied  to  articles  that  are  to  serve 
a  useful  purpose,  viz.,  adaptation  to  use.  There  is  no 
reversal  of  principles  in  manufacture,  as  is  so  often  the 
case  with  white  workers  who  value  appearance,  so- 
called  ornament,  finish,  etc.,  rather  than  adaptation  to 
purpose  or  utility.  Wherever  anything  is  allowed  to 
usurp  the  place  of  this  primary  element,  the  work  is 

♦Indian  Basketry  and  How  to  Make  Indian  and  Other  Baskets. 

240 


THE   INDIAN  AND  ART   WORK 

doomed  even  before  it  is  made.  On  the  other  hand, 
frankness,  honesty,  simpHcity,  directness,  characterize 
the  manufactures  of  the  Indian.  They  are  to  serve 
such  and  such  a  purpose;  that  purpose  is  openly 
denoted.     The  result  is  that,  to  the  unperverted  eye, 


ONE    OF    THE    FINEST    YOKUT    BASKETS    IN    EXISTENCE. 


the  artistic  work  of  the  unspoiled  Indian  is  as  perfect  in 
form  as  it  can  be.  There  is  no  wild  straining  after 
unique  effect;  no  fantastic  distortions  to  secure  novelty; 
everything  is  natural  and  rational,  and  therefore 
artistically  effective. 

241 


THE   INDIAN   AND   ART   WORK 

In  color,  too,  the  original  work  of  the  Indian  weav- 
ers, before  the  vile  aniline  dyes  were  forced  upon  them 
by  the  "civilized"  and  "Christian"  traders  and  mis- 
sionaries, was  above  criticism.  The  old  baskets  and 
blankets  are  eagerly  sought  after,  at  fabulous  prices,  })y 
the  most  refined  and  critical  of  artists  and  connois- 
seurs because  of  the  perfection  of  their  color  harmonies. 
In  every  good  collection  are  to  be  seen  such  specimens 
that  are  both  the  admiration  and  despair  of  modern 
artists. 

As  for  weave,  it  is  asserted  upon  the  highest  authority 
that  there  is  not  a  weave  or  stitch  known  to  modern 
art  that  was  not  given  to  our  civilization  by  the  aborigi- 
nes. And  they  have  many  stitches  of  great  effective- 
ness that  we  have  not  availed  ourselves  of.  Take  the 
Pomas  alone  —  a  tribe  of  basket-makers  who  live  in 
northern  California.  They  have  not  less  than  fourteen 
different  stitches  or  weaves,  some  of  them  of  marvel- 
ous beauty  and  strength.  In  one  of  the  accompanying 
pictures  is  a  specimen  of  their  carrying  baskets.  This 
basket  will  hold  a  large  load  of  seeds  or  fruit,  and 
when  so  laden  requires  a  construction  of  great  durability 
to  sustain  the  burden.  It  is  woven  with  this  express 
purpose  in  view,  yet  it  is  artistically  decorated  with 
a  beautifully  worked  out  design.  Here  is  an  im- 
portant lesson  the  white  race  might  learn,  viz.,  that  the 
utensils  of  daily  life  should  be  surrounded  with  as  much 
beauty  as  is  practical.  The  kitchen  should  be  as  full 
of  enjoyment  to  the  eye,  in  reason,  as  the  parlor.  The 
cook  and  maid  need  aesthetic  surroundings  as  well  as 
—  indeed,  more  than,  —  the  mistress  and  her  children. 
If  social  custom  insists  upon  making  servants  of  one 
part  of  its  members,  the  other  part  should  be  willing 
to  make  their  "servitude"  as  comfortable  and  beautiful 

242 


THE  INDIAN  AND   ART   WORK 

as  is  possible  and  practicable.  Think  of  these  poor, 
ignorant(!)  Indian  women  making  baskets  for  por- 
ridge, carrying  baskets,  plaques  for  holding  food, 
mush  bowls,  and  a  score  of  other  purposes,  all  beauti- 
fully   decorated    and    ornamented    with    designs    that 


EXQUISITE   DESIGN   ON   A    FINE   YOKUT   INDIAN   BASKET. 


express  some  emotion  of  their  own  souls,  some  ambi- 
tion, some  aspiration,  or  some  happy  memory. 

In  the  matter  of  these  designs  the  white  race  has 
much  it  may  learn  from  the  Indian.  Sometimes  I 
have  looked  upon  the  patterns  and  colors  of  our  wall- 
papers, our  rugs,  our  carpets,  our  chintzs,  our  calicoes, 

243 


TIIK    INDIAN   AND   ART   WORK 

and  especially  upon  the  wool  work  or  einbroideiy 
of  some  women,  and  have  been  compelk^d  to  ask 
myself  if  hideousness  could  be  carried  to  any  further 
extent.     Some  of  the  designs  were  the  absolute  delirium 


A    MISSION    INDIAN    BASKET   OF    GOOD    DESIGN. 


tremens  of  craziness,  —  conventionality  reconventional- 
ized  again  and  again,  until  it  was  made  unlike  to 
anything  in  "the  heavens  above,  the  earth  beneath,  or 
the  waters  under  the  earth." 

I  was  once  lecturing  to  a  "civilized"  and  "culti- 

244 


THE   INDIAN   AND   ART   WORK 

vated"  audience  upon  this  subject  of  Indian  designs 
that  have  a  personal  meaning,  and  when  I  got  through 
I  heard  one  highly  civilized  and  cultivated  man 
exclaim  in  disgust:  "Why,  he'll  soon  try  to  make  us 
believe  that  our  own  wall-paper  patterns  ought  to 
mean  something!" 


A    CHEMEHUEVI    BASKET    OF    BEAUTIFUL    FORM    AND    DESIGN. 

Most  certainly  I  will!  The  idea  that  we,  the 
superior,  the  wise  race,  use  designs  in  our  goods  that 
are  supposed  to  be  beautiful  to  us,  and  yet  that  have 
no  meaning!  What  absurdity  and  foolishness  for  our 
girls  and  women  to  spend  hours  on  "fancy-work"  (!), 
the  designs  of  which  are  a  crazy,  intricate  some- 
thing to  be  dreaded  rather  than  admired.    The  Indians 

245 


THE   INDIAN   AND   ART   WORK 

have  more  sense  than  to  waste  their  time  over  such 
fooHsliness.  They  have  studied  Nature  in  all  her 
varying  forms,  and  their  minds  are  stored  up  with  a 
thousand  and  one  designs  which  they  can  transfer  at 
pleasure  to  their  basketry,  pottery,  or  blanketry.  I 
have  had  the  pleasure  of  teaching  this  basic  princi})le 


BASKET    BOWL   MADE    BY    PALATINGW  A   WEAVER. 


of  art  work  to  many  white  women,  and  I  learned  it 
from  the  Indian.  One  woman  wanted  to  get  a  design 
for  her  sofa  pillows.  I  asked  her  if  she  had  no  flow- 
ering vine  over  her  porch.  She  said  "Yes."  "Then 
copy  its  leaf  and  flower,"  was  my  reply,  and  when 
she  did  so,  and  saw  the  beauty  of  the  design  she 
had  created  from  Nature,  her  soul  was  filled  with  a 
new  joy,  and  she  wrote  me  that  few  things  had  given 

246 


THE  INDIAN  AND  ART   WORK 

her  more  pleasure   than  the  discovery   of   that  basic 
principle. 

Think  of  the  white  race  making  baskets.  Where 
do  they  go  to  for  their  forms  and  designs  ?  In  thou- 
sands of  cases  they  take  my  own  books  and  copy  from 
them!  But  where  did  I  get  them.?  I  am  no  creative 
artist,  no  inventor  of  design!  I  got  them,  "body,  soul, 
and  breeches,"  from  the  Indian, —  every  one  of  them; 
and  yet  the  "superior  race"  must  go  to  them  to  copy, 
instead  of  so  disciplining  the  powers  of  observation 
from  Nature  that  designs  for  embroidery,  for  basketry, 
for  fancy-work  of  every  description,  are  contained  with- 
in their  own  memories.  The  Indian's  life  has  trained 
these  wonderful  faculties  of  observation  and  memory. 
He  was  compelled  to  watch  the  animals  in  order  that 
he  might  avoid  those  that  were  dangerous  and  catch 
those  that  were  good  for  food;  to  follow  the  flying 
birds  that  he  might  know  when  and  where  to  trap 
them  and  secure  their  eggs ;  the  fishes  as  they  spawned 
and  hatched ;  the  insects  as  they  bored  and  burrowed ; 
the  plants  and  trees  as  they  grew  and  budded,  blos- 
somed and  seeded.  He  became  familiar,  not  only  with 
such  simple  things  as  the  movements  of  the  polar 
constellations  and  the  retrograde  and  forward  motions 
of  the  planets,  but  also  with  the  less  known  spiral 
movements  of  the  whirl-winds  as  they  took  up  the  sands 
of  the  desert;  and  the  zigzags  of  the  lightning  were 
burned  into  his  consciousness  and  memory  in  the 
fierce  storms  that,  again  and  again,  in  darkest  night, 
swept  over  the  exposed  area  in  which  he  roamed ; 
with  the  flying  of  the  birds,  the  graceful  movements, 
the  colors,  and  markings  of  the  snakes,  the  peculiar 
wigglings  of  insects,  and  their  tracks,  and  those  of 
reptiles,  birds,  and  animals,  whether  upon  the  sand, 

247 


THE   INDIAN   AND   ART   WORK 

the  snow,  tlie  mud,  or  more  solid  earth,  he  soon  l)ecame 
famihur.  The  rise  and  fall  of  the  mountains  and 
valleys,  the  soaring  spires  and  wide-spreading  branches 
of  the  trees,  the  shadows  they  cast,  and  the  changes  they 


AN    EXQUISITELY    WOVEN    YOKUT    BASKET    SHOWING    OHI(;i.\    OF    ST. 
ANDREWS    CROSS,    FROM    THE    DIAMOND    OF    THE    RATTLESNAKE. 

underwent  as  the  seasons  progressed,  the  scudding 
or  anchored  clouds  in  their  infinitude  of  form  and 
color,  the  graceful  arch  of  the  rainbow,  the  peculiar 
formation  and  dissipation  of  the  fogs,  the  triumphant 

248 


THE   INDIAN   AND   ART   WORK 

lancings  of  the  night  by  the  gorgeous  fire-weapons  of 
the  morning  sun,  the  stately  retreat  of  the  king  of  day 
as  evening  approached,  —  all  these  and  a  thousand  and 
one  other  things  of  beauty  in  Nature  the  Indian  soon 
learned  to  know,  and  from  all  these  mental  images 
he  can  readily  draw  when  a  design  is  needed. 

Is  it  not  well  that  the  white  race  should  learn 
to  observe  the  things  of  Nature  ?  We  have  a  few 
nature  writers:  Thoreau,  John  Burroughs,  Olive 
Tliorne  Miller,  Elizabeth  Grinnell,  John  Muir,  Ernest 
Seton  Thompson,  Wm.  J.  Long,  and  Theodore  Roose- 
velt, but  why  should  we  need  nature  books  ?  We  have 
the  whole  field  of  Nature  for  our  own;  every  page  is 
open  to  us,  and  the  need  of  these  books  is  proof  that  we 
have  not,  and  do  not,  take  the  trouble  to  read  Nature 
for  ourselves.  The  Indian  does  better  than  this.  He 
is  a  personal  student.  He  finds  joy  and  mental  de- 
velopment in  the  results  of  his  own  observation,  and 
until  the  white  race  learns  his  lesson,  it  will  be  behind 
him  in  its  joy  in  Nature,  its  wisdom  gained  from  Na- 
ture, in  the  physical  health,  vigor,  and  strength  that 
Nature  always  gives  to  her  devotees,  and  in  the  true  art 
development  that  alone  can  come  from  familiarity  with 
Nature  in  all  her  varying  moods. 


249 


CHAPTER    XXV 
THE  INDIAN  AND  RELIGIOUS  WORSHIP 


THE    DIGNIFIED    AND    SOLEMN    ROW    OF    SNAKE    PRIESTS    IN    THE    HOPI 
SNAKE    DANCE    CEREMONIES. 

A  NOTHER  thing  that  the  civiHzed  of  this  age  may 
'*^*'  well  learn  from  the  Indian  is  intense  earnestness 
and  sincerity  in  all  matters  of  religion.  It  is  a  painful 
thing  for  me  to  go  into  many  of  our  city  churches. 
Well-dressed  women  and  girls  and  young  men  will  sit 
and  whisper  through  even  the  most  sacred  parts  of 
the  service.  Indeed,  it  is  the  exception,  not  the  rule, 
that  I  ever  go  to  a  service  without  being  outraged  by 
some  such  exhibition  of  rudeness,  ill  manners,  and 
irreverence.  This  kind  of  thing  is  unknown  with  the 
Indian.  Religion  is  a  serious  thing.  Fun  is  fun,  and 
when  he  goes  in  for  fun  he  does  it  with  thoroughness 
and  completeness;  but  when  his  religious  instincts 
are  called  upon,  he  puts  aside  all  fun,  and  enters  into 

250 


INDIAN   AND   RELIGIOUS   WORSHIP 

the  spirit  of  the  occasion  with  becoming  reverence  and 
solemnity.  It  is  civihzed  people  who  go  into  churches 
of  other  faiths  than  their  own  and  gape  and  "gawp" 
around,  whispering  the  while  to  one  another  at  the 
strange  things  they  see.  Protestants  are  particularly 
guilty  of  this  serious  vice.  Roman  Catholics  are  so 
trained  to  attend  to  their  own  devotions,  and  to  be 
devout  in  the  house  of  God,  that  they  pay  no  attention 
to  one  another,  but  Protestants  will  go  to  a  Catholic 
church,  or  one  of  some  other  denomination  than  their 


HOPI    INDIANS    AT    THEIR    FLUTE    CEREMONIES.       THIS    IS    A    PRAYER    FOR 
WATER    TO    FLOW    INTO    THEIR    DESERT    SPRINGS. 


own,  and  behave  in  a  manner  that  I  would  never  insult 
the  Indians  by  calling  "savage"  or  "uncivilized." 
An  Indian  will  not  even  set  foot  on  the  top  of  one  of 
the  underground  kivas  where  religious  ceremonies  of 
one  clan  are  going  on  to  which  he  does  not  belong. 
I  do  not  ignore  the  fact  that  this  reserve  comes  from 
superstitious  fear  lest  some  harm  befall  him,  and  this 
fear,  perhaps,  is  not  good.  But  whether  from  fear  or 
not,  the  reverence  for  the  sacred  place  and  the  cere- 
monies going  on  is  refreshing  and  gratifying.  Espe- 
cially so  is  it  to  me  after  seeing,  week  after  week,  a 

251 


INDIAN   AND   RELIGIOUS   WORSHIP 

crowd  of  so-called  civilized  young  men  (and  old) 
lounging  around  a  church  door,  sometimes  smoking, 
making  comments  upon  the  people  entering  the  church. 
I  have  as  little  toleration  for  the  acts  of  these  young 
men  who  thus  selfishly  rob  peo])le  of  their  comfort  and 
destroy  their  religious  feeling  as  I  woidd  have  for  any 
one  who  would  laugh  at  sorrow,  or  make  a  mock   of 


THE    CHIEF    PRIEST    OF   THE    ANTELOPES    MARCHING    TO    THE    DANCE 

PLAZA. 


the  grief  of  the  bereaved.  And  my  feeling  extends 
also  to  the  officials  of  the  church  who  will  permit 
such  outrageous  conduct.  Churches  are  for  the  educa- 
tion of  all  the  people  in  religious  and  higher  things. 
How  can  voutli  be  educated  in  higher  things  when  the 
very  precincts  of  the  church  are  allowed  to  be  used  by 
them   for   acts    of   discourtesy,    rudeness,    and    selfish 

252 


INDIAN   AND   RELIGIOUS   WORSHIP 

disregard  for  the  thoughts  and  rights  of  others  ?  With 
the  Indians  these  things  never  occur.  In  looking  at 
ceremonies  in  which  they  have  no  part,  their  manner 
betokens  the  profoundest  respect  and  reverence.  If 
not  for  the  worship  itself,  it  is  yet  show^n  to  the  feelings 
of  those  who  do  worship.     I  have  photographs  in  my 


THE    CIRCUIT    OF    ANTELOPE    PRIESTS    BEFORE    THE    KISI    IX    THE    HOPI 

SNAKE    DANCE. 

collection  of  Indian  youths  standing  at  the  door  of  a 
Christian  church  while  the  priest  within  intoned  the 
mass,  or  performed  some  part  of  the  appointed  ritual. 
The  rapt  expression  of  intent  earnestness  and  serious- 
ness is  so  far  removed  from  the  flippant,  indifferent, 
careless  expression  and  attitude  of  many  young  men  of 

253 


INDIAN   AND   RELIGIOUS    WORSHIP 


my  own  race  that  1  long  for  the  hitter  to  know  somewhat 
of  the  feehng  and  reverence  of  the  former. 

Then  in  the  rehgious  ceremonies  in  which  they 
take  part,  their  demeanor  is  remarkable  in  its  intent 
serionsness  and  earnestness.  I  have  seen  Indians  at 
their  shrines,  when  they  thought  they  were  entirely 
alone,  pray  with  an  agony  of  seriousness  and  fervor 

that  I  have  never 
seen  equalled  or 
at  least  surpassed. 
The  priests  of  the 
Snake  Dance  and 
the  Lelentu  (pray- 
ers for  rain  and 
that  w^ater  will 
flow  freely  into  the 
springs)  are  as 
earnest  and  sin- 
cere and  devout 
as  the  most  con- 
secrated Christian 
minister  or  priest 
I  ever  saw.  And 
the  dancers  of  the 
Acomas,  Lagunas,  Ilopis,  Navahos,  Zunis,  etc.,  enter 
into  these,  their  religious  ceremonies,  with  an  earnest- 
ness and  reverence  that  put  to  shame  the  flippant, 
bustling,  looking-around,  whispering  congregations  of 
many  of  our  so-called  Christian  churches. 

Nor  is  this  all.  The  Indian's  every-day  attitude 
is  one  of  reverence  for  the  Powders  Above,  He  does 
everything  with  these  before  his  mind.  The  first  thing 
he  does  on  awakening  is  to  propitiate  all  the  powers 
of  the  five  or  seven  cardinal  points.     When  the  sun 

254 


THE    ANTELOPE    PRIEST    PRAYING    BEFORE    THE 
SHRINE    OF    THE    WKIAVER    OF    THE    CLOUDS. 


INDIAN   AND   RELIGIOUS   WORSHIP 

rises  he  makes  his  offering  to  the  powers  behind  it, 
that  control  and  direct  it,  that  it  may  be  a  blessing 
throughout  the  day.  Indeed,  every  act  of  his  life  may 
be  said  to  have  a  religious  thought  attached  to  it,  so 
powerfully  is  the  religious  instinct  developed  within 
him.  If  you  offer  him  a  cigarette  he  will  propitiate 
the  Powers  Above  and  Around  and  Below  before  he 


CARRYING    THE    SNAKKS    IN    THKIR    MOUTHS    IN    TH  K    HOPI    SNAKE 

DANCE. 

gives  himself  up  to  the  full  enjoyment  of  it.  He  does 
this,  however,  with  such  apparent  unconcern  that  the 
stranger  would  never  dream  of  it,  even  though  he  were 
looking  straight  at  him.  But  the  knowing  will  under- 
stand. When  he  sees  the  Indian  quietly  blow  a  puff 
of  smoke  to  the  East,  he  knows  that  is  for  the  purpose 
of  reminding  the  good  and  evil  powers  that  reside  there 

255 


INDIAN    AND   RELIGIOUS    WORSHIP 

that  the  smoker  wishes  tlieir  good  iiifhiciiccs  to  rest 
upon  liiiii.  or,  at  least,  that  the  evil  influences  shall 
pass  him  l)y.  And  the  same  thing  when  the  smoker 
puffs  to  the  North,  the  West,  the  South,  and  the  Here. 
For  the  Navaho  Indian  believes  that  there  are  powers 
that  need  propitiating  just  here,  while  the  Ilopis  add 
the  powers  of  the  xVbove  and  the  Below,  thus  making 
seven  cardinal  points. 

The  secret  prayers  and  rites  of  the  underground 
kivas,  or  the  medicine  hogans  of  Ilopi  and  Navaho 
are  marvels  of  sincerity,  earnestness,  and  reverence. 
One  is  impressed  whether  he  understands  them  or  not, 
and  the  wdiite  man  comes  away,  or  at  least  I  do.  with 
this  feeling,  viz.,  that  I  would  to  God  the  white  race, 
so  long  as  they  worship  at  all,  would  do  so  with  such 
outward  decorum,  reverence,  and  earnestness  that 
w^ould  imply  their  real  inward  belief  that  the  thing  is 
more  than  a  meaningless,  perfunctory  ceremony  that 
they  must  go  through. 

Another  remarkable  thing  I  would  that  the  white 
race  would  learn  from  the  Indian  is  his  habit  of  teach- 
ing the  victim  of  a  misfortune  of  birth  that  his  misfor- 
tune is  a  mark  of  divine  favor.  Let  me  explain  fully. 
A  hunchback  or  a  dwarf  among  the  Indians  is  not 
made  the  butt  of  rude  wit,  ghastly  jokes,  or  of  cruel 
treatment,  as  is  generally  the  case  with  such  a  one  of 
our  own  race,  but  is  treated  with  special  consideration 
and  kindness.  I  knew  a  Mohave  boy  who  was  hump- 
backed when  born.  The  shaman  or  medicine  man 
explained  how  the  deformity  came.  He  was  a  special 
child,  a  gift  from  the  gods  above.  He  came  from  the 
Above  to  the  Here  on  the  exquisite  pathway  of  a  rain- 
bow. But,  unfortunately,  the  rainbow  rested  over  a 
very   sharp,   rugged   mountain   peak,   which   the  gods 

256 


INDIAN   AND   RELIGIOUS   WORSHIP 


did  not  see,  and,  as  the  child  sHd  down  to  the  earth, 
his  poor,  httle,  naked  back  caught  on  the  sharp  peak 
and  was  thus  deformed.  With  such  a  story  of  his 
origin  his  parents  were  made  happy,  and  as  he  grew 
older,  he  was  treated  with  kindness  and  consideration 
by  his  boy  companions.     Now,  while  I  would  not  gain 


DRINKING    THE    EMETIC    AFTER    THE    HOPI    SNAKE    DANCE. 

this  end  by  the  superstitious  story  of  the  Mohave 
medicine  man,  I  would  that  we  could  in  some  way 
teach  our  boys  to  look  with  compassion  upon  the  mis- 
fortune of  such  as  happen  to  be  afflicted  at  birth,  or 
to  be  light-witted,  or  in  some  way  not  the  equal  of  the 
majority. 

257 


INDIAN   AND   RELIGIOUS   WORSHIP 

If  an  Indian  1)0  afflicted  with  liysteria,  or  fits  of  any 
kind,  he  is  better  treated  as  the  result  of  his  affliction 
rather  than  worse.  Too  often  the  wliite  race  makes 
these  afflictions  the  cause  of  brutal  and  indifferent 
treatment,  and  adds  sorrow  to  the  already  overburdened 
and  distressed  souls  of  the  suft'ering. 


258 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

THE    INDIAN   AND    IMMORTALITY 

T  I  ^O  the  materialist  immortality  is  a  foolish  dream,  to 
-■■  the  agnostic  an  unjustified  human  craving,  to  the 
simple  Christian  a  belief,  and  to  the  transcendentalist 
a  confident  hope,  but  to  the  Indian  it  is  as  positive  an 
assurance  as  is  life.  The  white  race  has  complicated 
its  belief  in  the  future  life  with  many  theological  dog- 
mas. The  Roman  Catholic  church  has  its  purgatory, 
as  well  as  its  paradise  and  hell;  the  first  as  a  place  of 
purging  for  the  sins  committed  in  the  body  and  that 
must  be  burned  aw^ay,  the  second  the  abode  of  the 
blest,  and  the  third  the  place  into  wdiich  the  damned 
are  cast.  The  Seventh  Day  Adventists  believe  that  only 
those  who  are  saved  by  "the  blood  of  Christ"  and 
obedience  to  his  commands  are  blessed  with  the  gift 
of  immortal  life.  They  contend  it  is  a  free  gift  as  an 
act  of  God's  grace  and  is  not  inherent  in  the  soul  or 
spirit  of  mankind.  Those  who  refuse  to  accept 
salvation  by  the  vicarious  atonement  of  Christ,  they 
believe,  will  be  annihilated.  The  Presbyterian  believes 
that  a  certain  number  of  mankind  are  foreordained  for 
salvation  and  heaven,  and  another  number  for  damna- 
tion and  hell,  from  the  foundation  of  the  w^orld.  The 
Universalist  believes  that  all  men  will  ultimately  be 
saved  and  therefore  enjoy  heaven,  whilst  others  have 
a  belief  in  a  "conditional"  immortality. 

The   Indian   believes   in   immortality   without  any 
admixture    of    complex    theological    ideas.     His    is    a 

259 


THE   INDIAN   AND   IMIVIORTALITY 

simple  faith  wliicli  he  accepts  as  lie  accepts  life.  He 
believes  that  when  he  dies  his  spirit  goes  to  its  new 
life  just  as  at  birth  he  came  into  this  life.  And  he 
believes  that  all  the  objects  he  used  on  earth  —  food, 
clothing,  articles  of  adornment,  baskets,  horses,  saddles, 
blankets  —  have  a  spirit-life  as  well  as  he  has.  Hence, 
when  one  dies,  his  friends  throw  upon  his  funeral 
pyre  his  clothing,  blankets,  and  other  personal  belong- 
ings, utensils  for  his  comfort,  food  for  his  nourishment 
on  the  way  to  the  "under  w^orld,"  or  land  of  the  future, 
and  strangle  his  horse  that  its  spii'it  may  aid  him  on 
his  journey.  When  death  approaches  he  faces  it  with 
calmness,  equanimity  and  serenity.  Fearless  and  un- 
afraid he  aw^aits  the  coming  of  the  last  great  enemy. 
In  effect,   he  cries  out  with  Browning: 

"I  would  hate  that  death  bandaged  my  eyes, 
And  forbore,  and  bade  me  creep  past. 
No!  let  me  taste  the  whole  of  it;  fare  like  my  peers, 
The  heroes  of  old." 

No  shirking  for  him;  as  calmly  as  Socrates  took  the 
bowl  of  fatal  hemlock,  the  Indian  awaits  death  and 
proudly  passes  on  to  the  new^  life.  Those  who  are 
left  behind  may  wail  for  their  loss,  but  the  one  who 
departs  asks  for  and  receives  no  sympathy. 

Now,  it  is  this  simple  acceptation  of  death  as  a 
natural  thing  that  I  would  have  the  white  race  learn. 
And  yet  it  can  never  come  to  us  as  an  act  of  simple 
faith  as  it  is  with  the  Indian.  Our  civilization  has 
spoiled  us  for  "simple  faith."  That  is  practically 
impossible,  save  to  a  few  souls  who,  unlike  the  rest  of 
us,  have  "kept  themselves  unspotted  from  the  world" 
of  speculative  thought,  or  theological  dogma.  It 
can  come  (and  does  with  many)  as  the  result  of  relig- 

260 


THE   INDIAN    AND   IMMORTALITY 

ious  training,  or  as  it  did  to  Browning  and  Whitman. 
What  wonderfully  different  minds  these  two  men  had. 
One  an  aristocrat,  the  other  a  democrat,  yet  both 
full  of  love  for  mankind,  and  each  teaching  with  vigor 
and  power  the  Fatherhood  of  God,  the  real  brother- 
hood of  man,  and  the  immortality  of  the  soul.  Read 
Browning's  Prospice,  part  of  which  I  have  already 
quoted,  Evelyn  Hope,  Abt  Vogler,  and  these  three 
stanzas  with  which  he  opens  his  La  Saziaz,  and  else= 
where  calls  a  Pisgah  Sight: 

"Good,  to  forgive: 

Best,  to  forget! 

Living  we  fret; 
Dying,  we  live. 
Fretless  and  free, 

Soul,  clap  thy  pinion! 

Earth  have  dominion. 
Body,  o'er  thee ! 

Wander  at  will. 

Day  after  day, — 

Wander  away. 
Wandering  still  — 
Soul  that  canst  soar! 

Body  may  slumber: 

Body  shall  cumber 
Soul-flight  no  more. 

Waft  of  soul's  wing! 

What  lies  above  ? 

Sunshine  and  Love, 
Sky  blue  and  Spring ! 
Body  hides  —  where  ? 

Ferns  of  all  feather. 

Mosses  and  heather, 
Yours  be  the  care!" 
261 


THE   INDIAN   AND   IMMOlll  ALITY 

Conipjiro  tlioso  uttorancos  witli  Wliitman's  rugged 
and  forceful  words: 

"  I'as.sivc  and  faltcrini;-. 

The  words,  tlic  Dead,  I  write, 

For  living  are  the  Dead, 

(naj)ly  \\\v  only  living,  only  real, 

And  I,  the  apparition,  the  .sp(>etre.)" 

x\gaiu,  in  his  To  One  S/iortly  to  Die,  what  a  trium- 
phant note  is  in  the  last  two  lines: 

"I  exclude  others  from  you,  there  is  nothing  to  be  eonimiserated, 
I  do  not  commiserate,  I  congratulate  you." 

How  perfectly  Indian,  this  attitude,  this  refusal 
to  be  sorry,  and  to  offer  congratulations  rather  than 
regrets.  In  his  XigJif  on  the  Praii'ies  his  perfect 
assurance  as  to  the  future  is  clearly  expressed,  and 
while  measuring  himself  with  the  great  thoughts  of 
space  and  eternity  that  fill  him  as  he  gazes  upon  the 
myriads    of  globes   above,   he   exclaims: 

"  Now  I  absorb  immortality  and  peace,  I  admire  death   .... 
O,  I  see  now  that  life  cannot  exhibit  all  to  me,  as  the  day  cannot, 
I  see  that  I  am  to  Avait  for  what  will  be  exhibited  by  death." 

In  one  poem  he  speaks  of  "awaiting  death  with 
perfect   equanimity,"   and   in   another  says: 

"Thee,  holiest  minister  of  Heaven  —  thee,  envoy,  usherer,  guide 

at  last  of  all, 
Rich,  florid  loosener  of  the  stricture  knot  call'd  life. 
Sweet,  peaceful,  welcome  Death." 

And  the  reason  for  all  this  restfulness  as  to  Death 
and  the  Future  is  expressed  in  his  x4ssurances : 

"I  do  not  doubt  that  the  passionately-wept  deaths  of  young 
men  are  provided  for,  and  that  the  deaths  of  young  women  and  the 
deaths  of  little  children  are  provided  for.      (Did  you  think  life  was 

262 


THE   INDIAN   AND   IMMORTALITY 

so  well  provided  for,  and  Death,  the  purport  of  all  life,  is  not  well 
provided  for?) 

I  do  not  doubt  that  wrecks  at  sea,  no  matter  what  the  horrors 
of  them,  no  matter  whose  wife,  child,  husband,  father,  lover,  has 
gone  down,  are  provided  for,  to  the  minutest  points. 

I  do  not  doubt  that  whatever  can  possibly  happen  anywhere, 
at  any  time,  is  provided  for  in  the  inherences  of  things. 

I  do  not  think  Life  provides  for  all,  and  for  Time  and  Space, 
but  I  believe  Heavenly  Death  provides  for  all." 

So,  reader,  I  care  not  how  it  comes  into  your  soul, 
so  that  you  have  it  there,  a  rich  and  precious  posses- 
sion, this  hving,  active,  potential  behef  in  immortaHty. 
If  you  know  yoii  are  now,  and  that  you  will  never  end, 
you  will  find  that  life  itself  becomes  more  enlarged 
and  dignified.  You  will  not  be  content  with  mere 
earthly  aims,  you  will  not  rest  satisfied  to  be  a  mere 
money-getter,  but,  realizing  the  immensity  of  your 
own  capacities  and  powers,  you  will  reach  out  for  the 
eternal  things,  the  realities  that  abide  forever.  For 
Joaquin  Miller  never  wrote  a  truer  word  than  when 
he  said: 

"  For  all  you  can  hold  in  your  dead  cold  hand, 
Is  what  you  have  given  away." 

This  forever  settles  a  thoughtful  man's  conception 
of  mere  acquisitiveness.  Such  gatherings- together  are 
unworthy  the  soul  that  feels  and  knows  its  own  immor- 
tahty.     It  needs  a  larger  aim,  a  more  worthy  object. 

Another  thing  in  connection  with  what  we  call 
death,  the  white  race  may  well  learn  from  the  Indian. 
How  often  does  press  and  pulpit  expend  itself  in  find- 
ing superlatives  to  pour  out  in  lavish  eulogy  over  the 
dead,  who,  while  alive,  never  did  a  thing  to  win  the 
love  of  their  fellows.  Such  eulogy  in  unknown  among 
the   Indians.     The    "preacher   of    an    Indian   funeral 

2*^3 


THE   INDIAN   AND   IMMORTALITY 

sermon"  would  no  more  dare  wrongfully  praise  or 
laud  his  subject  than  he  would  falsely  execrate  him. 
He  must  speak  the  truth,  the  whole  truth,  and  nothing 
but  the  truth,  and  while  he  is  not  called  upon  to  expa- 
tiate upon  the  wrong-doings,  the  foibles  or  weaknesses 
of  his  subject,  he  must  say  no  word  of  praise  that  is 
not  justly  earned  and  strictly  true. 

If  this  law  were  applied  to  the  white  race,  what 
different  funeral  sermons  and  orations  we  should 
hear  and  read;  and  what  different  inscriptions  we 
should  read  upon  the  tombstones  found  in  our  grave- 
yards. 


264 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

VISITING   THE   INDIANS 

/^CCASIONALLY  I  meet  with  people  who  would 
^-^  like  to  visit  real  Indians  in  their  real  homes, — 
not  the  dressed-up  Indians  in  a  made  home,  like  those 
of  the  Midway  Plaisance  of  the  World's  Fair  or  of  a 
"Wild  West"  show,  and  they  ask  me  how  they  can  do 
so.  To  the  ordinary  traveler  of  to-day,  who  requires 
all  the  comforts  of  a  Pullman  and  a  dining  car,  and 
who  is  not  willing  to  forego  them  for  the  hardships  of  a 
camping-out  trip,  my  advice  is  don't,  although  the 
hardships  are  more  so  in  name  than  in  fact.  If  one 
likes  old  clothes,  fresh  air,  the  great  outdoors,  lots  of 
sunshine,  desert  roads,  and  meals  al  fresco, —  sleeping 
at  night  under  the  stars, —  this  is  just  the  country  for 
such  things.  Given  a  good  team,  a  careful  driver  who 
can  cook  "frontier  style,"  and  an  agreeable  traveling 
companion,  and  you  will  have  a  new  thrill  —  no  matter 
what  the  weather  is.  Five  dollars  a  day  each  person 
will  cover  average  cost  of  outfit ;  meals  extra. 

Yet  there  are  some  Indians  who  may  be  seen  with- 
out leaving  the  luxuries  of  our  modern  civilization. 
Two  great  railway  systems  in  our  Southwest  pass 
through  the  regions  where  live  the  Indians  to  whom 
I  have  referred  in  the  foregoing  pages.  These  are 
popularly  known  as  the  "Santa  Fe"  and  the  "South- 
ern Pacific." 

In  crossing  the  continent  from  Chicago  to  the  Pacific 
Coast  on   the  Santa  Fe  route,  one  strikes  the  "Indian 

265 


MSITING    THE    IiNDlANS 

country,''  to  which  I  refer,  about  half  a  day  before 
reaching  Albiujuerque,  New  ^Mexico.  Here  is  what 
might  be  termed  "the  heart  of  the  Puebk)  Indian 
country."  The  word  "pueblo"  is  Spanish  for  "town," 
so  the  name  merely  means  the  stay-at-home  town 
Indians  as  distinguished  from  the  nomad  or  wander- 
ing tribes  of  the  great  plateaus. 

At  Albuquerque  one  may  see,  in  Fred  Harvey's 
collection  in  the  Mission-style  depot,  a  rare  and  pre- 
cious gathering  of  Indian  baskets,  blankets,  silverware, 
etc.,  that  is  one  of  the  finest  in  the  West.  It  ranks 
with  the  highest,  and  was  largely  gathered  and  placed 
under  the  personal  direction  of  Dr.  George  A.  Dorsey, 
the  eminent  ethnologist  of  the  Field  Columbian 
INIuseum.  Nearly  all  the  pueblos  may  be  reached 
with  this  city  as  a  radiating  center,  though  Taos  and 
the  Indian  villages  of  the  northern  Rio  Grande  valley 
are  more  accessible  from  Santa  Fe.  Isleta  and  Laguna 
are  passed  a  few  miles  further  west.  A  three  hours' 
drive  from  Laguna,  by  way  of  the  Enchanted  Mesa, 
brings  you  to  the  sky  city  of  Acoma.  Zuni  is  a  day's 
stage  ride  south  of  Gallup,  New  Mexico.  At  Winslow, 
or  Canyon  Diablo,  Arizona,  one  may  leave  the  railway 
for  the  70  or  90  mile  ride  across  the  Painted  Desert  to 
the  region  of  the  Hopis,  the  snake-dancing  Indians 
to  whom  I  have  often  referred.  At  Williams,  a  little 
further  west,  on  the  branch  line  to  the  Grand  Canyon, 
one  may  visit  the  Havasupais,  and  at  Kingman,  the 
Wallapais.  At  Needles,  on  the  Colorado  River,  the 
boundary  line  between  Arizona  and  California,  one 
may  see  the  INIohaves,  and  on  the  river,  reached  by 
boat  from  Needles,  some  forty  miles  below,  are  the 
Chemehuevis.  In  California,  on  the  San  Diego  branch 
of  the  Santa  Fe,  one  may  reach  various  villages  of 

266 


VISITING   THE    INDIANS 

Mission  Indians;  Pala,  Rincon,  and  several  others 
from  Oceanside;  and  San  Ysabel,  Mesa  Grande,  Los 
Coyotes,  etc.,  from  San  Diego  by  team  to  Warner's 
Ranch.  Saboba  is  reached  on  the  San  Jacinto  branch, 
and  Temecula  on  the  Temecula  branch. 

The  Santa  Fe  passenger  department  pubhshes  a 
beautifully  illustrated  and  well  written  book  on  the 
Indians  of  the  Southwest,  and  it  is  well  worth  sending 
fifty  cents  to  their  general  offices  in  Chicago  for  a  copy. 

The  Southern  Pacific  also  passes  through  a  coun- 
try where  many  Indians  reside.  The  Apaches  are 
reached  from  several  of  their  Arizona  stations,  and  the 
Pimas  and  Maricopas  from  Phoenix.  At  Aztec  a  stage 
takes  one  to  Palomas,  where  an  interesting  band  of 
Apaches  are  to  be  seen.  The  Indian  reservation  for 
the  Yumas  is  just  across  the  railway  bridge  at  Zuma, 
and  from  Mecca,  near  the  Salton  Sea,  one  may  reach 
the  desert  Indian  villages  of  Martinez,  Agua  Dulce, 
Santa  Rosa,  etc.  Palm  Springs  is  the  station  for  the 
Palm  Springs  Indians,  five  miles  away,  and  at  Porter- 
ville,  north  of  Los  Angeles,  one  starts  for  the  drive  to 
the  Yokuts  and  other  basket-making  Indians. 

This  brief  chapter  makes  no  pretense  to  full  treat- 
ment. It  is  merely  a  suggestion  of  help  to  those  who 
wish  to  follow  the  Indian  to  his  real  home. 


267 


CHAPTER  XXYIII 

THE  MENTALITY  OF  THE   INDIAN 

nr^HIS  subject  covers  a  far  larger  field,  and  presents 
"^  many  more  aspects  than,  in  a  short  chapter,  can 
conveniently  be  discussed.  Yet  its  importance  to  those 
who  would  understand  the  North  American  Indian  can- 
not be  over-estimated. 

The  one  fact  that  the  American  Indian  lives  in  the 
open,  and  has  lived  so  for  centuries,  marks  a  far  greater 
difference  between  the  races  than  white  men  conceive. 
Our  life  is  lived  between  stone  walls.  We  are  thus  sepa- 
rated one  from  another.  People  in  apartment  houses, 
within  sound  of  each  others'  voices,  even  seeing  each 
other  daily,  often  are  absolute  strangers.  This  tends 
to  destroy  friendliness  and  the  spirit  of  kinship  and 
brotherhood  and  subtilely  affects  us  far  more  than  we 
are  aware. 

Furthermore,  this  separateness  tends  to  promote 
the  spirit  of  acquisitiveness,  of  gaining  possessions, 
which  we  put  within  our  walls  to  protect  from  another's 
covetous  eyes.  Here  is  another  most  potent  factor  of 
separation  between  men. 

On  the  other  hand  the  American  Indian  lives  in  the 
open.  He  is  in  close  contact,  more  or  less  all  the  time, 
with  his  fellows,  and  this  breeds  knowledge  of  each 
others'  lives, — woes,  troubles,  pleasures,  experiences — 
which  in  itself  is  a  wonderful  help  in  knitting  peoples 
together.     In  the  larger,  freer,  roaming  life,  too,  he 

268 


THE  MENTALITY  OF  THE  INDIAN 

learns  to  care  little  for  possessions.  He  is  not  hampered 
with  the  thousand  and  one  unnecessary  things  that  clog 
the  existence  of  many  a  white  family,  and  render  the 
home  life  of  husband,  wife,  and  children  miserable. 

Marked,  however,  as  are  these  differences  between 
the  white  race  and  the  American  Indian  they  are  rela- 
tively small  when  compared  with  another.  The  city- 
walled-in-life  of  white  people  shuts  them  in  from 
Nature,  makes  them  feel  that  they  are  separated  from, 
and  antagonistic  to,  the  great  world  outside.  As  Sir 
Rabindranath  Tagore  says: 

"  The  West  seems  to  take  a  pride  in  thinking  that  it  is  subduing 
Nature ;  as  if  we  are  living  in  a  hostile  world  where  we  have  to  wrest 
everything  we  want  from  an  unwilling  and  alien  arrangement  of 
things.  This  sentiment  is  the  product  of  the  city-wall  habit  and 
training  of  mind.  For  in  the  city  life  man  naturally  directs  the 
concentrated  light  of  his  mental  vision  upon  his  own  life  and  works, 
and  this  creates  an  artificial  dissociation  between  himself  and  the 
Universal  Nature  within  whose  bosom  he  lies." 

John  Burroughs,  John  Muir,  Enos  Mills,  Kellogg, 
the  bird  man,  and  a  few  others  in  our  American  civiliza- 
tion have  realized  this  to  a  greater  or  lesser  extent,  and 
in  their  way,  have  tried  to  show  the  joy  of  getting  back 
to  the  close  and  intimate  relationship  between  human 
life  and  Nature.  There  is  no  real  line  of  demarkation. 
We  are  not  separated.  The  Indian  has  ever  known  by 
instinct  that  there  is  harmony  between  himself  and 
Nature.  Muir  was  always  emphasizing  the  idea  of  the 
friendliness  to  men  of  the  mountains,  the  forests,  the 
canyons, — all  Nature.  Enos  Mills  unconsciously  does 
the  same,  even  though  he  tells  of  his  experiences  in  the 
storm-swept  summits  of  the  Rocky  Mountains.  I  have 
endeavored  to  do  the  same  in  my  books  on  the  Grand 

269 


THE  MEXTxVLITY  OF  THE  INDIAN 

Canyon,  the  Colorado  Desert,  the  Painted  Desert,  the 
Lake  Tahoe  region,  etc. 

So  long  as  man  feels  that  he  is  separated  from  and 
antagonistic  to  Nature  he  shuts  himself  out  from  the 
greatest,  the  easiest,  the  siu'est  ap2)roach  to  God — the 
Universal.  Or,  perhaps,  this  should  be  modified:  iNIan's 
own  soul  is  his  greatest,  easiest,  and  surest  approach  to 
God,  and  thus  Nature  would  be  relegated  to  the  second 
place.  Yet,  even  accepting  this  amended  statement  as 
the  truer  one,  I  have  learned  that  when  man  fails  to 
comprehend  his  kinship  with  Nature,  he  generally  fails 
to  realize,  to  a  greater  or  lesser  degree,  the  powers  of 
his  own  soul  and  his  kinship  with  the  Divine. 

The  far-reaching  consequences  of  these  two  failures 
are  beyond  the  power  of  man  to  estimate.  He  loses  the 
sympathy,  the  joy,  the  delight,  the  beauty  that  come 
with  the  recognition  of  a  close  personal  relationship  be- 
tween himself  and  Nature;  the  inspiration  that  their 
living  power  would  ])e  to  him,  and  more  unfortunate 
still,  not  seeing  the  intimate  connection  between  the 
things  of  Nature,  himself  and  God,  he  does  not  learn 
that  every  song  of  a  bird  is  a  sweet  precious  message 
of  the  Divine  sent  to  give  joy  to  him;  he  fails  to  hear 
the  sweet  nmsic  of  the  spheres,  the  songs  of  the  morning 
stars,  the  harmonies  of  the  sunrises  and  sunsets,  the 
symphonies  of  the  forests  in  great  arousing  storms,  the 
dominating  and  solemn  chorals  of  the  crashing  waves 
of  the  sea,  and  to  know  they  are  the  manifold  voices  of 
God  seeking  to  give  him  assurance  that  he  is  not  walking 
alone  in  a  hostile  universe,  but  that  Love — supreme, 
dominant  and  unconquerable — surrounds  him  on  every 
hand. 

This  spirit  of  separateness  also  shuts  him  out  from 

270 


THE  MENTALITY  OF  THE  INDIAN 

the  joy  of  sympathy  with  his  "lesser  brothers  and  sis- 
ters," the  birds,  the  animals,  the  insects,  the  fishes — 
and  I  would  add  the  trees,  the  shrubs,  the  flowers,  the 
earth,  the  rocks,  the  lakes,  rivers,  seas  and  oceans.  St. 
Francis  of  Assisi  got  hold  of  this  great  truth  to  a  cer- 
tain extent,  when  he  recognized  the  birds  and  fishes,  and 
preached  to  them  as  his  brothers  and  sisters.  To  a  far 
greater  extent  than  we  know,  most  Indians  have  this 
feeling.  While  sometimes  they  are  cruel  to  the  lower 
animals,  it  is  the  same  kind  of  cruelty  they  perpetrate 
upon  themselves — they  do  not  deny  their  relationship. 
Neither  are  they  all  the  time  alarmed,  fearful,  looking 
for  some  hostile  manifestation  in  Nature.  They  look 
with  wonder  upon  those  whites  who,  when  thinking  of 
camping-out,  talk  about  the  danger  from  snakes,  taran- 
tulas, scorpions,  and  the  dread  they  have  of  bugs, 
spiders,  and  other  creeping  things.  To  the  American 
Indian  this  attitude  of  mind  is  incomprehensible.  He 
knows  there  is  nothing  to  fear,  and  he  lies  down  to  sleep 
without  a  quahn  in  a  snake-infested  country,  knowing 
that  nothing  will  harm  or  molest  him. 

But  there  is  even  a  greater  injury  done  to  the  white 
man  than  these  by  his  wrong  attitude  towards  Nature. 
As  the  Hindu  poet  before  quoted  sagely  remarks: 

"  In  the  West  the  prevalent  feeling  is  that  Nature  belongs  ex- 
clusively to  inanimate  things  and  to  beasts,  that  there  is  a  sudden 
unaccountable  break  where  human  nature  legins.  According  to  it, 
everything  that  is  low  in  the  scale  of  beings  is  merely  Nature,  and 
whatever  has  the  stamp  of  perfection  on  it,  intellectual  or  moral, 
is  human  nature." 

How  pitiable  is  this  separation,  and  how  direful  in 
its  results.  The  arrogance  of  the  attitude  works  untold 
injury  to  man  in  depriving  him  of  the  closer  intimacy  of 

271 


THE  MENTALITY  OF  THE  INDIAN 

Nature.  The  ^Vnierican  Indians  liave  traditions  by  the 
score  of  the  time  when  gods,  men,  anhnals  and  all  Na- 
ture had  a  common  tongue,  and  they  still  preserve  much 
of  the  knowledge  gained  in  those  early  days,  as  their 
songs  and  prayers  show.  ^A^iat  have  not  we,  the  white 
race,  lost,  by  separating  ourselves  from  this  knowledge? 
And  what  might  w^e  not  have  done  by  our  loving  sym- 
pathy had  we  kept  our  means  of  communication  open 
between  ourselves  and  our  less-developed  brothers  and 
sisters  of  creation. 

In  his  Uukno'wn  Guest  the  poet  Maeterlinck  speaks 
with  deej)  feeling  of  the  moment  when  intelligence  was 
first  aroused  by  man  in  the  educated  horses  of  Elber- 
feld.  For  long  centuries  man  had  been  slumbering 
peacefully  in  his  convictions  that  man  and  animals  were 
separated  from  each  other  hi/  a  gulf  which  could  not  he 
crossed.  What  a  lamentable  idea  fraught  with  evil  por- 
tent for  man  as  well  as  the  animals.  AVliat  a  reflection 
upon  the  wisdom,  the  oneness,  of  Creation,  and  its 
Creator.  Even  blind  Evolution,  working  with  fingers 
only  beginning  to  learn  sentiency,  could  do  better  than 
that,  for,  all  the  Evolutionists  agree  that  our  molecular 
structure  is  the  home  of  the  accumulated  experiences  of 
the  past,  and  that,  therefore,  if  w^e  have  come  up  from 
the  lower  stages  to  the  higher,  we  unconsciously  or  sub- 
consciously, yet  none-the-less  really,  recognize  our  kin- 
ship to  the  lower  orders  from  which  we  sprang. 

The  American  Indian,  on  the  other  hand,  never  has 
fully  lost  the  sense  of  this  relationship.  It  has  given  him 
a  joy  in  Nature,  therefore,  that  the  white  race  has  un- 
fortunately lost  and  tchich  it  cannot  afford  to  lose.  And 
at  the  same  time  it  has  deprived  us  of  the  white  race  of 
the  joy  of  a  closer  association  with  the  animals,  and  the 

272 


THE  MENTALITY  OF  THE  INDIAN 

possible  helping  of  them  into  a  higher  stage  of  intelli- 
gence. If,  by  our  isolation,  we  have  failed  to  help  in 
raising  our  lowly  brothers  the  loss  is  oui'S  far  more  than 
theirs.  For  we  have  the  intelligence  which  we  might  have 
exercised  on  their  behalf  and  having  failed  to  do  so  have 
lost  the  inestimable  blessings  that  invariably  come  with 
activity.  Who  knows  what  man  could  have  accom- 
plished with  the  animals  had  he  tried  during  all  the  past 
centuries?    Maeterlinck  well  says  of  the  dog  that: 

"It  is  certain  that  he  sometimes  wanders  in  a  curious  fashion 
along  the  mysterious  border  that  separates  our  intelligence  from 
that  which  we  grant  to  the  other  creatures  inhabiting  this  earth 
with  us.  But  it  is  no  less  certain  that  he  has  never  definitely  passed 
it." 

I  am  more  and  more  inclined  to  believe  that  Love — 
divine  and  human — is  the  key  that  will  unlock  the  door 
of  the  prison-house  where  our  younger  brothers  seem  to 
be  imprisoned.  And  in  the  exercise  of  that  love  man 
would  have  found  untold  joy,  as  well  as  an  occupation 
that  would  have  given  him  pleasure  and  spiritual  profit. 
"When  one  looks  upon  the  ordinary  white  man's  pleas- 
ures he  cannot  but  feel  how  inadequate  they  are  to  ex- 
press much  of  the  higher  part  of  his  nature.  Most  of 
them  merely  minister  to  his  senses,  tickle  his  risibles,  or 
excite  his  emotions.  Few  reach  his  mind  and  fewer  still 
his  soul. 

The  Arab  has  retained  a  large  part  of  this  joy  of 
the  fuller  association  with  the  lower  animals,  for  his 
horses  are  far  nearer  to  him  in  intelligence  than  ours 
are  to  us.  He  makes  them  his  companions  and  inti- 
mate friends,  and  treats  them  as  such,  hence  they  are 
more  intelligent,  kindly  and  responsive  than  even  the 
best  bred  of  our  own  animals. 

273 


THE  MENTALITY  OF  THE  INDIAN 

The  closeness  of  touch  of  the  Indian  with  Nature, 
however,  has  jjroduced  other  results  to  the  Indians' 
great  advantage.  Intimate  relationship  with  and  de- 
pendence upon  Nature  have  quickened  the  Indian's 
powers  of  ohservation,  and  intuitive  perceptions.  He 
can  follow  a  trail  where  most  white  men  see  nothing  to 
indicate  that  any  creature,  four-footed  or  human,  has 
passed  by. 

This  lack  of  the  use  of  the  powers  of  observation  is 
proverbial  amongst  the  white  race.  Having  eyes  we  see 
not,  literally  as  well  as  figuratively.  We  pass  by  the 
most  interesting,  fascinating  and  beautiful  things  be- 
cause we  are  not  habituated  to  observe;  we  have  not 
been  trained  to  see;  nor  have  we  learned  the  joy  of  see- 
ing. In  a  letter  written  by  John  Muir  to  his  good 
friend,  Mrs.  Jeanne  C.  Carr,  he  brings  out  the  exqui- 
site pleasure  of  the  exercise  of  the  powers  of  observation 
in  the  following  delightful  fashion.  He  was  walking 
from  the  railroad  to  the  Yosemite  Valley: 

"  Heavy  wagon  loads  of  wheat  had  been  hauled  along  the  road, 
and  the  wheels  had  sunken  deeply  and  left  smooth,  beveled  furrows 
in  the  sand.  Upon  the  slopes  of  these  sand  furrows,  I  soon  observed 
a  most  beautiful  and  varied  embroidery:  evidently  tracks  of  some 
kind.  At  first,  I  thought  of  mice,  but  I  soon  saw  they  were  too 
light  and  delicate  even  for  the  tracks  of  these  little  animals.  Then, 
a  tiny  lizard  darted  into  the  stubble  ahead  of  me,  and  I  carefully 
examined  the  track  he  made,  but  it  was  entirely  unlike  the  fine  print- 
embroidery  I  was  studying.  However,  I  knew  that  he  might  make 
very  different  tracks,  if  walking  leisurely ;  therefore  I  determined  to 
catch  one  and  experiment.  I  found  in  Florida  that  lizards,  how- 
ever swift,  are  short-winded;  so  I  gave  chase  and  soon  captured  a 
tiny  gray  fellow,  and  carried  him  to  a  smooth  sand-bed  where  he 
could  embroider,  without  getting  away  into  grass  tufts  or  holes.  He 
was  so  wearied  that  he  could  not  skim,  and  was  compelled  to  walk, 
and   I  was  excited  with  delight  in  seeing  an   exquisitely  beautiful 

274 


THE  MENTALITY  OF  THE  INDIAN 

strip  of  embroidery  about  five-eiglitlis  of  an  inch  wide,  drawn  out 
in  flowing  curves  behind  him  as  from  a  loom.     The  riddle  was  solved. 
I  knew  that  mountain  boulders  move  in  music.     So  also  do  lizards, 
and  their  written  music  printed  by  their  feet  (moved  so  swiftly  as 
to  be  invisible)  covers  the  hot  sands  with  beauty  wherever  they  go. 
But    my    sand    embroidery-lesson    was    by    no    means    finished.       I 
speedily  discovered  a  yet  more  delicate  pattern  on  the  sands,  woven 
into  that  of  the  lizards.      I   examined  the  strange  combination  of 
bars  and  dots.    No  five-toed  lizard  had  printed  that  music.     I  watched 
narrowly,  down  on  my  knees,  following  the  strange  and  beautiful 
pattern  along  the  wheel  furrows,  and  out  into  the  stubble.     Occa- 
sionally the  pattern  would  suddenly  end  in  a  shallow  pit  half  an 
inch  across  and  an  eighth  of  an  inch  deep.     I  was  fairly  puzzled, 
picked  up  my  bundle  and  trudged  discontentedly  away ;  but  my  ej^es 
were  hungrily  awake  and  I  watched  all  the  ground.     At  length,  a 
gray  grasshopper  rattled  and  flew  up,  and  the  truth  flashed  upon 
me  tliat  he  was  the  complementary  embroiderer  of  the  lizard.     Then 
followed  a  long,  careful  observation,  but  I  never  could  see  the  grass- 
hopper until  he  jumped,  and  after  he  alighted  he  invariably  stood 
watching  me  with  his  legs  set  ready  for  another  jump  in  case  of 
danger.     Nevertheless,  I  soon  made  sure  that  he  was  my  man ;  for  I 
found  that,  in  jumping,  he  made  the  shallow  pits  I  had  observed 
at  the  termination  of  the  pattern  I  was  studying.      But  no  matter 
hoAV  patiently   I   waited  he  wouldn't  walk,  while  I  was   sufficiently 
near  to  observe — they  are  so  nearly  the  color  of  the  sand.     I  there- 
fore caught  one,  and  lifted  his  wing  covers,  and  cut  off"  about  half 
of  each  wing  with  my  penknife,  and  carried  him  to  a  favorable  place 
on  the  sand.     At  first,  he  did  nothing  but  jump  and  make  dimples, 
but  soon  became  weary  and  walked  in  common  rhythm  with  all  his 
six   legs.      My   interest   you   may   guess,  while   I    watched   the   em- 
broidery: the  written   music   laid   down    in   a   beautiful   ribbon-like 
strip  behind  him.      I   glowed  with  wild  joy,   as   if  I   had   found  a 
new  glacier,  copied  specimens  of  the  precious  fabric  into  my  note- 
book, and  strode  away  with  my  (xwn  feet  sinking  with  a  dull  craunch, 
craunch,  craunch,  in  the  hot  gray  sand,  glad  to  believe  that  the  dark 
and  cloudy  vicissitudes  of  the  Oakland  period  had  not  dimmed  my 
vision  in  the  least.     Surely,  Mother  Nature  pitied  the  poor  boy  and 
showed  him  pictures ! 

275 


THE  MENTALITY  OF  THE  INDIAN 

"  Happen  what  would^  fever-thirst  or  sunstroke,  my  joy  for  that 
day  was  eom2)letc.  Yet  I  was  to  receive  still  more.  A  train  of 
curving  tracks,  with  a  line  in  the  middle,  next  fixed  my  attention, 
and  almost  before  I  had  time  to  make  a  guess  concerning  their 
author,  a  small  hawk  came  shooting  down  vertically  out  of  the  sky, 
a  few  steps  ahead  of  me,  and  picked  up  something  in  his  talons. 
After  rising  thirty  or  forty  feet  overhead,  he  dropped  it  by  the 
roadside,  as  if  to  show  me  what  it  was.  I  ran  forward  and  found 
a  little  bunchy  field  mouse,  and,  at  once,  suspected  him  of  being 
embroiderer  number  three.  After  an  exciting  chase  tlirough  stubble- 
heaps  and  weed-thickets,  I  wearied  and  captured  him  without  being 
bitten,  and  turned  him  free  to  make  his  mark  in  a  favorable  sand 
bed.  He  also  embroidered  better  than  he  knew,  and  at  once 
claimed  the  authorship  of  the  new  trackwork. 

"  I  soon  learned  to  distinguish  the  pretty  sparrow-track  from 
that  of  the  magpie  and  the  lark,  with  their  three  delicate  branches 
and  the  straight  scratch  behind,  made  by  the  back  curving  claw 
dragged  loosely  like  the  spur  of  a  Mexican  vaquero.  The  cushioned, 
elastic  feet  of  the  hare  frequently  were  seen  mixed  with  the  patter- 
ing, scratchy  prints  of  the  squirrels.  I  was  now  wholly  trackful. 
I  fancied  I  could  see  the  air  whirling  in  dimpled  eddies  from 
sparrow  and  lark  wings,  earthquake  boulders  descending  in  a  song 
of  curves,  snowflakes  glinting  songfully  hither  and  thither.  '  The 
water  in  music  the  oar  forsakes.'  The  air  in  music  the  wing  for- 
sakes. All  things  move  in  music  and  write  it.  The  mouse,  lizard, 
and  grasshopper  sing  together  on  the  Turlock  sands  sing  with  the 
morning  stars." 

This  power  of  keen  observation  the  Indian  possesses, 
hence  his  knowledge  of  Nature  is  far  more  intimate  than 
ours.  He  may  not  possess  the  knowledge  that  we  call 
science,  but  he  has  the  far  more  intimate  knowledge  that 
gives  joy  because  of  kinship.  It  is  the  touch  of  spirit 
to  spirit,  and  gives  him  the  assurance  of  oneness  with 
Nature  that  makes  him  happy  in  all  her  manifold  mani- 
festations, depriAxs  him  of  all  fear,  keeps  him  in  har- 


276 


THE  MENTALITY  OF  THE  INDIAN 

monious    relationship    and    thereby    confirms    him    in 
health,  vigor  and  happiness. 

But  this  close  touch  and  sympathy  with  Nature 
quickens  the  Indian's  perceptions  in  other  fields  equally 
well.  He  observes  every  singularity,  idiosyncrasy,  dom- 
inant feature  or  peculiar  characteristic  of  mountain, 
rock,  canyon,  forest,  plain,  water-fall,  stream,  or  rapid, 
and  he  names  these  objects  with  remarkable  appropri- 
ateness. Every  name  he  applies  is  peculiarly  distinc- 
tive. It  sets  forth  the  individual  characteristics  of  the 
thing  named.  There  is  no  paucity  of  invention  in  the 
Indian's  nomenclature  for  nature  objects,  no  repetition, 
no  lack  of  poetic  imagination.  He  is  not  confined  to 
such  nomenclatures  as  "Inspiration  Point,"  "Artist's 
Point,"  "Bridal  Veil  Falls,"  and  other  "immaterial,  ir- 
relevant and  incompetent"  mental  lubrications  as  ap- 
plied to  the  sublimities  of  the  Yosemite  Valley  and  other 
scenic  grandeurs  of  America.  He  has  a  poetry,  a  sym- 
bolism, a  creative  imagination  in  his  naming  of  these 
objects  that  is  a  revelation  to  the  ordinary  white  man 
when  he  first  comes  in  contact  with  it.  I  venture  the 
assertion  there  is  not  a  notable  natural  object  of  any 
description,  in  the  whole  country,  from  the  highest 
peaks  to  the  lowest  desert  areas,  or  the  most  rugged 
canyons  to  the  smoothest  stretch  of  prairie  and  sea 
beach  to  which  the  Indians  had  not  given  some  interest- 
ing and  poetically  descriptive  name,  and  around  which 
they  had  not  woven  some  enchanting  legend,  religious 
story  or  folk-tale,  prior  to  our  coming  into  the  land. 

Comparatively  few  of  these  stories  have  been  saA^ed, 
but  they  give  us  a  very  clear  idea  as  to  what  we  have 
lost  in  not  learning  them  all  ere  the  old  Indians,  who 
alone  knew  them,  had  passed  away. 

277 


THE  MENTALITY  OF  THE  INDIAN 

There  is  a  symbolism,  too,  about  the  Indians  that  is 
as  interesting^"  as  it  is  revelative  of  the  Indians'  mind. 
AVhen  one  studies  their  rehgious  ideas  he  is  surprised 
at  the  deep  signifieanee  of  many  of  the  strange  things 
he  sees.  JNIatthews  in  his  l)()oks  on  the  Navahos,  Fewkes 
in  his  many  writings  on  the  Hopi,  INIrs.  Stevenson  in 
her  great  work  on  the  Zuni,  Frank  H.  Gushing,  (her 
2)redeeessor),  IMiss  Ahce  Fletcher  in  her  w'orks  on  the 
Oniahas,  and  a  score  of  other  well-known  scientists  of 
the  Bureau  of  North  American  Ethnology  have  shown 
how  profoundly  significant  are  their  ceremonies  and 
attendant  symbols.  In  their  prayers  the  Navahos  re- 
veal Avonderful  spiritual  perception  and  poetic  exalta- 
tion, and  Jeremiah  Curtin  has  shown  in  his  Creation 
Myths  of  North  America  that  the  Indians  possess  a 
religious  nature  second  to  none  of  the  people  of  the 
earth,  and  a  creative  imagination  in  dealing  with  the 
gods  of  their  pantheon  more  remarkable  and  fascinating 
than  the  m\i;hs  of  the  ancient  Greeks  and  Romans. 

Here  I  must  leave  the  subject  in  a  confessedly  frag- 
mentary condition.  It  is  merely  to  stimulate  thought 
and  study  upon  this  line  that  I  have  introduced  this 
chapter  into  the  new  edition  of  this  book,  and  if  that 
end  is  attained  I  shall  be  satisfied. 


278 


CHAPTER  XXIX 
CONCLUSION 

TN  the  foregoing  chapters  I  have  attempted  to  present 
■*■  in  helpful  form  ideas  that  have  slowly  sifted  into 
my  own  mind  as  my  contact  with  the  Indian  has 
become  less  formal  and  restrained.  In  my  case 
"familiarity"  has  not  "bred  contempt."  I  have 
learned  many,  and  to  me  most  important,  lessons.  In 
the  hurry  and  whirl  of  our  money-mad  age  and  our 
machine-driven  civilization,  we  have  scarce  time  to 
sit  down  calmly  and  contemplate  anything,  hence 
my  earnest  plea  for  a  return  to  the  simple  things,  to 
the  outdoors,  to  the  quiet  contentment  of  the  Indian. 
Doubtless  I  have  often  said  things  both  crudely  and 
harshly,  but  I  can  truthfully  affirm  that  I  have  never 
intended  to  be  harsh,  though  I  am  less  careful  that 
my  utterances  be  polished  and  refined  than  that  they 
should  find  lodgment  in  earnest  hearts. 

To  those  who  are  honest  and  sincere  in  their  desire 
to  get  the  good  out  of  what  I  have  said,  the  flaws  in  my 
work  will  be  generously  passed  by,  and  kindly  dis- 
regarded. I  have  felt  too  intensely  in  the  writing  of 
some  of  these  chapters  to  be  able  to  judge  what  I  have 
written  by  the  cool,  critical  standard  of  the  rhetorician. 
I  have  learned  from  the  Indian  that  the  real  thing  to 
be  desired  in  oratory  is  to  get  one's  thought  into  the 
other  man's  mind  and  heart  so  that  it  will  influence 
his  action.  This  has  been  my  aim  in  writing  these 
pages;   so,  in  conclusion, 

279 


CONCLUSION 

I  thank  thee,  dusky  brother  of  the  plains,  tlie  moun- 
tains, the  forests,  and  the  canyons,  for  this  k\sson  and 
all  the  other  lessons  you  have  taught  me.  I  am  grateful 
for  tlic  lessons  of  the  higher  civilization.  I  prize  and 
treasure  them,  but  equally  am  I  under  obligation  to 
thee,  thou  red-skin,  for  recalling  to  me  some  primitive 
principles  which  civilization  ignores  at  its  peril. 


280 


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